And Then, It's Called Grace
by Autumn Dae
Summary: It’s been five years since Ziva had seen anyone from NCIS. She left one day, and never came back. When she finds herself entangled with the team once more, the past begins to haunt, and she must face the one man she promised she’d never see again. Tiva.
1. Of Waking Up

**A/N: Hey everyone! I'm finally back with a brand new multi-chaptered story, and I'm really excited about it.**

**This story is about second chances, memories, and falling in love again. It, as many of the great stories, legends, and tales of heroes in this world are, is about sacrifice, whether it is deserved or not. And when it is not, it is called "grace".**

**It's been five years since Ziva had seen anyone from NCIS. She left one day, and never came back. When she finds herself entangled with the team once more, the past begins to haunt, and she must face the one man she promised she'd never see again.**

**The next chapters will explain more, and as the story unfolds, I think you'll see that there's no such thing and lost hope.**

**Autumn**

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"_There is no refuge from memory and remorse in this world. The spirits of our foolish deeds haunt us, with or without repentance."--Gilbert Parker_

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_Tap tap tap_.

Ziva David stood and moved swiftly to the back of the room, intending to apprehend the perpetrator. She reached him and looked him straight in the eye, but stopped instead and sighed. "What is it, Jeremy?" she asked the high school student, sitting in his seat with a raised hand and clicking pencil on his empty desk.

"Remind me again why we have to learn history? It's not like I'm gonna become a historian or something," he said, slouching even more than Ziva thought possible.

"Because," Ziva said as she walked back to the front of the room to face all of the students. "If we can remember the past and what happened then, we can learn from our mistakes and know how to prevent those things from happening again," her eyes wandered out the window, the red and gold trees outside glimmering in the afternoon light.

The bell rang and the students looked to her. "Fine, yes, you are dismissed. Your papers are due Friday, and please spell check this time!" she called as they hurried out the door.

Ziva shook her head and sat down at her desk, resting her head on her hand as she propped her elbow on the desk.

"Ziva?" a voice sounded from the threshold. It was familiar, and suddenly she felt as if she was waking from a dream. She looked up to see Timothy McGee standing in the doorway, a face she had not seen in forever.

"McGee!" she smiled at him and stood, meeting him in a tight embrace.

"What are you doing here?" he asked after they pulled back, looking around the room.

Ziva smiled at him, but McGee noticed the weariness in her eyes. "This is my classroom—I teach here,"

"Here in DC? When did you come back?"

"August," Ziva said simply as she leaned against the front of your desk. "How've you been?"

"I've been good," he said, looking around her room in a near-awe.

"You still with NCIS?" Ziva gestured to the badge at his waist.

"Yeah, Senior agent these days,"

"How is Abby?" Ziva asked kindly.

McGee almost blushed. "She's good. We're, ah, dating now,"

Ziva chuckled. "Finally, then?"

"Yeah," he grinned.

"How's Gibbs?"

"He's good—Vance is trying to get him to retire, but you know Gibbs,"

"Yes, he always was a stubborn one," she agreed knowingly.

McGee sighed and looked at her. "How've you been, Ziva?"

Ziva opened her mouth and closed it before moving to the window, arms folded as she thought. "I have been fine,"

"Just fine?"

Ziva looked at him and gave him a half-smile. "Sometimes that is what you have to settle for," she looked out the window once more. "Why are you here, at Allegro Prepatory?"

"Picking up a student, Julianne Evans,"

"Her father is a Sergeant in the Marine Corps," Ziva said.

"Yeah, he died this morning,"

"Oh my word," Ziva said. "Was it an accident?"

McGee shrugged. "We're not sure yet… Listen, Ziva, I have to go get her, but would you like to have dinner with Abby and me Friday night? She'd love to see you,"

"I do not know…"

"You'll think about it, at least?"

Ziva nodded. "Of course. I will call you tomorrow night and yet you know?"

"That'd be great,"

"Okay then," Ziva said.

"It was really good to see you, Ziva," he paused.

"What is it?"

He sighed and shook his head. "It's nothing. I'll see you later," he said, stepping out the door.

"Bye," she called. She sighed and sunk down in her desk chair, fingering a little globe figurine a student had given her last year. She would often find herself turning it and turning it, her mind wandering to all the places she had been.

She glanced at the wall where a large map was displayed. A little flag marked all of the places every student had visited. Many of the students at Allegro Prepatory were the children of government officials, CEOs, and other high-profile men and women, so many of them had been around the world.

She touched a pin—one of hers. It was Paris, and Paris held so many memories. Ziva shut her eyes for a moment when she heard a soft voice from the doorway.

"Miss David?" It was Jane Seager, a sweet, quiet girl, the daughter of a Virginia senator. She was a junior in high school, very bright, but shy.

"Yes, Jane? Is there something I can help you with?" It was lunch time, and most students were busy chatting with their friends around campus, relieved to take a break from their studies.

"I was wondering if you had any books on England?"

Though the Allegro library was very extensive, Ziva had found its collection on travel to be more informative and objective. She believed that students could learn more from factually-correct narratives and memoirs of people who have actually lived and traveled to the amazing places they wrote about. She had gathered quite the assortment of such books and made them available to all her students.

"I do," Ziva smiled and drew a book from the large bookshelf. "This one is one of my favorites," she handed it to Jane.

"Have you ever been to England?" Jane asked.

"Yes, many times,"

"What'd you do there? Did you visit London at all? Did you ride the double decker buses?"

Ziva swallowed. None of her students or any of the staff, excepting Headmaster Steinway, knew of her history with Mossad. "I did go to London, but I was there on business. I didn't have the opportunity to ride the buses, but there were some beautiful sights. It was very green, but very rainy," she replied. "Would you like to go there someday?"

Jane nodded. "It's on my list of things to do before I die,"

"I had a list once too,"

"Did you accomplish everything on it?"

Ziva shook her head. "Not everything," she touched the girl on her arm gently. "But if going to London is something you would like to do, you should. As long as you are not running away,"

"Running away?" her eyebrows rose in slight amusement.

"Yes. It is never the answer, Jane. You can take a suitcase and leave behind the people, but the memories will always follow,"

"Do you have any memories you wish you could leave behind?"

Ziva smiled, her heart aching. _Pound pound pound._ "Go back to lunch. I'll see at fifth period,"

"Alright, thanks for the book, Miss David,"

"Anytime," Ziva said as Jane left the room.

Ziva ran a hand through her hair, long and curly still, her mind ringing with McGee's words and Jane's questions and memories so scarring raining down upon her sore heart.

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**Intruiged? Don't forget to review!**


	2. Of Memories

**A/N: Morning! Thanks for all the amazing reviews and alerts—you guys are fantastic.**

**Today we learn more about what happened, and what's happened to Tony as the past starts to catch up with Ziva. It was a good chapter to write, and begins sewing the threads for the rest of the story, so keep your eyes open.**

**Love you all!**

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_"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered."--Tom Stoppard_

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Ziva sat on her window seat of her new apartment, the scent of new paint still prevalent when she walked through her hallways. The rain tapped against the window, and Ziva pulled her oversized sweater closer to her small body. She had piles of papers to grade and a red pen in her hand, but she had forgotten about it hours ago. Right now, she was lost in thought.

"_Put down your weapon or I shoot!"_

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

"_I'll see you tomorrow."_

"_Agent David, welcome."_

"_Ziva, where are you? Are you okay?"_

"Ziva, open up!" banging and calling from behind her door drew her out of her memories. She ran to it and pulled it open, revealing a bouncing Abby. "Ziva!" she squealed and drew her into an embrace before Ziva could refuse. The hug was familiar, warm, and welcoming.

"Abby," Ziva said, smiling at the woman when she finally pulled back. "Would you like to come in?" she said, gesturing to her apartment.

Abby walked in, her movements a little more quiet than they were five years ago—she wore less metal now, Ziva noticed. "How've you been?" Abby asked as she turned to her.

"Everyone keeps asking me that,"

"Everyone meaning me and McGee? Someone's defensive,"

Ziva shook her head with a small smirk. "Would you like some tea or coffee? I do not have any Caf-Pow on hand," she grinned.

"I'm good, thanks," she replied as Ziva withdrew to the small kitchen and returned quickly with her own cup of tea. She motioned for Abby so sit down on the couch, and Ziva took her place on a plush chair. "How are you, Abby?"

"I'm good, better now that I've seen you,"

"McGee?"

"He said you were back in DC and I had to see you," Abby fingered a bracelet on her pale wrist. "I tried looking for you, at first when you left, but you never answered," Ziva looked down. "Gibbs made me stop looking after a year went by and… That's why I didn't know you were back. I'm still the master f forensics,"

Ziva smiled softly. "I hear you and McGee are together now?"

Abby grinned. "Yeah, like a year and a half ago. We dated when he first came to NCIS and… Well, it's good again and we're really happy,"

"I'm happy for you, Abby," Ziva said sincerely. "How is the team?" she asked, knowing Abby would give a much more honest and full answer than McGee had.

"They're alright. Gibbs is getting older, which sucks 'cause even though it was inevitable…"

"_You have not listened to anything I have said." For the past three days she had been trying and failing to convince him that it wasn't his fault. That he wasn't to blame for Jenny's death. She was wrong._

"_Well it's only been three years, I'm a slow learner."_

"_And a slow healer," she said, sitting down on the edge of Ducky's desk. She could always read him with such ease, seeing more of him than he saw of himself. "You're crying over spilled… milk."_

"_It's not milk that I spilled," he replied._

"_Do not to this, Tony," she warned him, knowing the destruction it could lead to._

"_Do what, blow my protection detail? Blow my undercover assignment?"_

"_Those sound like apologies," she replied by pulling out a glass for her, motioning for her to take a drink. She accepted reluctantly, only pouring the smallest bit of liquid into her glass._

"_She died alone," Tony said thoughtfully as he held the glass in his hand._

"_We are all alone."_

"_Yeah thanks for that. I just mean she never got married, never had any children; never even heard her talk about it… Paris," he looked at her, and for a moment their eyes met before he looked off again. "That's when it must have happened."_

"_The two of them alone, in another world," she said._

"_Putting their lives in each other's hands every day," He was looking at her again, but she wouldn't look back. His words spoke of Gibbs and Jenny, but he wasn't. He was talking about them._

"_Not to mention the long nights," Ziva added._

"_It was inevitable."_

"_Nothing is inevitable," she finally met his eyes._

"…. But Gibbs is still the same old Gibbs. Still drinks coffee from a spring, he can still tell when someone's lying. His gut is just fine too. And Ducky retired a couple years ago, but we have lunch once a week. Jimmy's the new ME, and it's really cute 'cause sometimes he tries to be like Ducky and talk to, you know, them, but he gets all awkward. He'll figure it out though—Ducky taught him well. And Vance is still kind of irritating, but he's the boss, and bosses are supposed to be irritating, well of course, not Gibbs, and he's the real, boss, not to say that--"

"I understand," Ziva smiled at Abby—she hadn't changed at all.

Abby sighed and looked at Ziva for a long moment. "Tony," she said simply. Ziva's eyes diverted to her cup of tea. "You gonna come see him?"

"I do not see why," Ziva said.

"Come on, Ziva," she said. "This is the team we're talking about. I mean, seeing McGee and me, that's one thing, but Tony, he was your partner—he should know what happened to his best friend and it's selfish of you to avoid him like this, because someday you'll run into him at the coffee shop or something and you'll find out that you missed out on your chance,"

"Abby, we missed out on our chance long ago," she said quietly.

"That wasn't his choice," Abby said, her voice half bitter, half regretful.

"I know," Ziva said.

"Why'd you leave, Ziva?"

"My career--"

"Don't give me any of that crap, Ziva. I may be a stranger to you but you're still my friend, my family, and it sucked when you left and didn't say goodbye,"

Ziva swallowed. "I'm sorry, Abby,"

Abby bit her lip and quickly moved to hug Ziva again. "I forgive you," she said kindly. She pulled back. "I did a long time ago,"

Ziva was quiet for a moment. "And the rest of the team?"

Abby shrugged. "We tried to stop talking about it after a few months, or at least pretend to. But… nothing was the same anymore. At least when you were dead you had a good reason to not call me back,"

Ziva laughed quietly, but her mind went elsewhere, to a carrier off the coast of Cartenaga, six years ago.

"_What?" Tony turned to Ziva, seeing her watching him with those searching eyes._

"_You seem, ah, different," she said._

"_Taller? Hotter?"_

"_Older,"_

"_Well, it's been over four months," Tony replied, turning away once more, his voice dropping._

"_Still beating yourself up over Jenny?"She could always read him._

"_Not as much as I used to,"_

"_Drinking?" yes, she really could._

"_Not as much as I used to,"_

_Ziva touched his arm and he looked at her again. "You could have called,"_

"It was hard for a really long time. And Tony… It was worse than when you were dead."

"What is worse than death?" Ziva asked, confused.

"At least when you were dead, there was nothing he could do, nothing he could have changed. But this time, it wasn't like that, Ziva. You have to understand, he felt like it was his fault."

"Did he say that?"

"Once. I don't know if he even realized he said it out loud, but I already knew. It was kind of obvious."

"I did not mean to hurt anyone."

"I know," Abby assured her. "We all did. But when you left before, it was understandable—Tony killed Rivkin and you didn't really have anyone but yourself. I mean, we got that. But…"

"I know," Ziva said.

Abby sighed and looked at Ziva. "So, how does a Mossad assassin turned NCIS agent become a high school history teacher?"

Ziva smiled. "The student body is composed of mostly children of high-profile people—men who work in Special Ops, the children of government office holders, the heads of agencies, that sort of thing. I spoke with the headmaster and he said he wanted to have protection both inside and outside the building, and we agreed that I could best use my abilities in that way."

"But history? You didn't go to college."

"Actually, I did."

"Oh, five years, right."

"I was able to expedite my studies and teaching degree with some help from the Sec Nav."

"You got _SecNav_ to help you?"

Ziva laughed. "It was more returning a favor."

"Must've been a big favor."

"It was," Ziva replied, hoping Abby wouldn't ask her why the SecNav owed her.

Abby checked her watch. "I have to go."

"Plans with McGee?"

"Yeah," she smiled. She wrapped Ziva with her arms a moment later, holding her close. "Thanks, Ziva."

"No problems," she said.

Abby pulled back and touched her face. "Five years _is_ a long time, Ziva. But not too long,"

Ziva furrowed her brow but smiled softly at her long-lost friend. "It was good to see you."

"You too, Ziva," Abby said, stepping out into the hallway.

"Tell the team I said hi." Ziva said suddenly.

"Even Tony?"

Ziva paused. "You can tell him whatever you like."

Abby gazed at her for a moment and nodded. "See you later,"

"Bye," Ziva said, closing the door. She locked it and slid down its back to the floor. She placed her hand over her mouth, almost tempted to cry for reasons unknown. She leaned her head back against the door and stared up at the ceiling, unable to move any further.

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**Don't forget to review!**


	3. Of Hiding

**A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for all of the fabulous reviews on the last chapter! There's been SUCH an amazing response to this story, and I am so humbled. So thank you.**

**Just a note about this story: some people have mentioned that Ziva's now using contractions, and that it's a bit out of character. I debated with myself about this as I began to write this story, but ultimately decided that she would use contractions here and there because: 1. I have noticed in the show, she does use them occaisionally—she may not realize it, but she does. 2. Ziva's been in the US for ten years and gone to an American college—she's assimilated more now. 3. You'll see in this chapter (I swear this was a coincidence, mentioning this thought with the seemingly corresponding chapter, lol) that she's been making a conscious effort to do so, and you'll see why. So yeah, Ziva's using contractions now and then, and that's why. : )**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Autumn

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**

_"Things are not always what they seem; the first appearance deceives many; the intelligence of a few perceives what has been carefully hidden." --Phaedrus_

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**

That night, Ziva walked into her kitchen and began to cook furiously. In the past five years, she had taken up the hobby again. It was a skill she learned as a child from her mother, and took on the full household cooking when she died. But during her years in Mossad and NCIS, it became more difficult to find the motivation, much less energy to do so. But when she left, she picked it up once more as a way to keep herself busy and mind occupied. It was easier to focus on ingredients and measurements rather than the past.

She found herself cooking an old recipe Tony had given her years ago, during their perfect summer. Gibbs was in Mexico and Tony was team leader. He would come over a few times a week and they would watch movies he brought over, or she would teach him how to play the piano again, and they would always end up cooking up an amazing meal or dessert.

Ziva bent over the pot breathed its scent in deeply. It reminded her of him.

She brought her meal to the small table by a window that overlooked the beautiful city below. On her table sat a thick journal, one she had written in frequently since she left. She picked up her pen and began to write.

_Dear Tony,_

_School went well today. We got through our lessons in time with minor interruption, a first for this semester. A beautiful maple tree sits outside my classroom window—it's red and lovely and I think you would like it. It's so strange to be back in DC, but… I do not know. I feel as if I am awaking from a long dream._

_Tonight I made that amazing dish you taught me to make, the one with all of the spices that we must have made fifteen times that summer Gibbs was gone. I always make enough for at least two people, but I never have anyone to share it with._

_Today I saw McGee and Abby for the first time since I left. I cannot tell you how much my hurt hurts. They were so glad to see me, so welcoming and forgiving. They want me to come see you, but I cannot. I can't do that to you (Do you see? __I am__ I'm using contractions. I know you always wanted me to.) You don't deserve that._

_I never wanted to leave. You should know that._

_I'm so sorry, Tony._

_Ziva_

The writing had started when she tried to write him a goodbye letter five years ago, but found she was unable to ever give it to him—she just couldn't. She tried again the next day, and every day after that. Some pages held more than one entry, the journal so thick and large that she was able to keep it going all five years.

They were all the things she wanted him to know.

All the things he deserved to know.

* * *

Ziva stood in line for coffee the next morning when a hand tapped her on the shoulder. She flinched, trying to resist the urge to fight. She had been working that.

She turned to see Gibbs standing behind her.

"Gibbs," she said, surprised.

"Ziva,"

"What are you doing here?"

He motioned to the counter. "Coffee,"

"This is not your usual coffee shop," she said, eyeing him.

"It's been five years," _Do not remind me._

"I come here every day, Gibbs. This is not where you come for your coffee. I would have seen you,"

He shrugged. "Take a walk with me?"

Ziva checked her watch as she picked up her coffee from the counter. "I have some time,"

They left the shop and began to walk down the DC street silently.

"I would apologize for leaving, but…" Ziva tried.

Gibbs cocked his head a little. "Figured you had a good reason,"

"I did," she insisted.

He looked at her expectantly. She knew he deserved the answer. She knew he deserved the truth. But she could hardly bring herself to speak about it at all. "I can't Gibbs," she said, her voice almost sounding desperate.

Gibbs nodded after a moment. She would come to him. She always had. "How you been, Ziva?"

Ziva shook her head and shrugged, looking around at the buildings much taller than herself. "You?"

"Eh," he shrugged. He looked at her for a long moment as they walked down the street in the autumn breeze, the morning cool and a little frosty. "The team misses you," he said.

"Abby told me. I miss them too," she said, but sounded hesitant. "How is Tony?"

"Been counting the days since you left," he said.

Ziva stopped in her tracks and stared at the ground, hard as if searching for an answer. "What?"

"Today is five years, seven months, and twenty-three days,"

Ziva swallowed. "Why? Why is he counting?"

Gibbs shook his head. "He misses you. Feels like he's to blame," Ziva was quiet and Gibbs moved toward her. "Is he?"

Ziva began to walk again. "I cannot answer that,"

"Why, Ziva? Why not?" he demanded quietly.

"You get orders. You may not like them, but you follow them. That's why they're called 'orders'," she said, using the same words she said to Tony years before, so many years.

"You fell off the face of the earth, Ziva," _You owe me_, his eyes said.

_I can't_, her eyes replied. Ziva sighed. "It was not my choice,"

"Whose was it? Your father's? Vance's?"

"Some things should stay buried,"

"What's going on, Ziva?"

Ziva looked him in the eye. "This goes much deeper than you or me or Mossad or Vance. It's much more complicated than that, Gibbs. I can't tell you, but… I'm sorry. I wish I could, but I can't. I wish I did not have to leave, I wish that nothing changed," she blinked, willing away the tears.

"You need to talk to him,"

"I can't," she insisted.

"Who's stopping you?"

"Gibbs," Ziva whispered, unable to say anything more without falling into tears.

He looked at her for a long moment before wrapping her in an embrace, pulling her close. He held her head in his hand as if cradling a child who had been lost. He had missed her, and she had missed him. Neither had to say it—neither would have even if they needed to. But it was an unspoken truth, as honest as the fact that the sun still shines when it is hidden by the rain clouds.

_Five years, seven months, and twenty-three days.**

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**_

**Don't forget to review!**


	4. Of Pain

**A/N: Hey! Welcome to chapter four of **_**And Then, It's Called Grace. **_

**Thanks for all the reviews and alerts on the last chapter! I'm so unbelievably honored—it's amazing and you all are so, so gracious. So thank you.**

**Today's chapter is, of course, both revealing and concealing. I like to think I take lessons from Shane Brennan, "The Master of the Dark", the Master of what many of us call, "Shangst". So hopefully, if I can get a fraction of that out of him, then you all should be very curious right now, and judging by your reviews, that's exactly it. : )**

**The next few chapters should be really interesting, so... :)**

**Enjoy!**

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_"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone."--Rose Kennedy. _

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It was Friday, one of Ziva's favorite days of the week. It wasn't because she knew the weekend was coming, but because on Fridays, Ziva would end the lesson early and allow the students to have a time of Q & A, asking any and all questions they had about history, life, herself, anything. It was an enjoyable thing every class loved, something that made her popular with all of her students.

"Who's next? Marcus," Ziva said, nodding to the young man in the back.

"Why did you become a teacher?"

Ziva paused. "I wanted to do something good. I wanted to… build lives," _Not take them._

"Do you ever wish you had picked a different career?" Carrie, a girl with shiny blue eyes asked.

Ziva sighed. She was always afraid they might ask the tough questions. "I wasn't always a teacher," _I was a killer._ "But I realized that sometimes you have to make choices, sacrifices for what is right,"

"What did you do?"

"I…" she was interrupted by the bell just then, letting the last class of students out for the day. _Thank you._ "See you all next week," she called as they hurried out.

Ziva slumped against the edge of her desk with a sigh and checked her watch. She was meeting McGee and Abby tonight for dinner, and she was scared. She was so scared of being seen. Being known.

* * *

Ziva sat at the table anxiously. She smoothed her simple heather green dress and rolled up the sleeves of her cream colored sweater, pulling her curls over her neck. She closed her eyes and sighed. _I should not be so nervous._

Finally she looked up and saw them walking in, hand in hand. Ziva smiled at the sight—they were engaged in conversation, their happy eyes locked one another's as they neared the table.

"Hey, you came!" Abby nearly squealed as she reached the table. She was dressed in a unique dress, black, of course, and her hair was down for the first time Ziva had ever seen.

"Abby, you look lovely," Ziva said after they greeted one another.

"Yes she does," McGee agreed.

Abby rolled her eyes but took McGee's hand. "Thanks, Ziva,"

"So tell us, Ziva, what have you been up to all these years?" McGee began.

Ziva could practically feel the fear flash through her eyes, but she took a sip of her water and took a deep breath. "I moved to Boston."

"Oh, I _love_ Boston!" Abby gushed.

"Same here," McGee said.

"You have a degree from MIT, yes?" Ziva remembered.

"Computer forensics," he confirmed proudly. Ziva looked at him with a nostalgic smile. "What?"

"You are growing up." she said.

Abby elbowed him. "Tony tells him that _all_ the time. It drives him insane."

"You are both senior special agents now?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah… Tony's not a big fan of that."

"I am sure," Ziva laughed, and both Abby and McGee caught the sadness behind it. "What about you two? What have you been doing?"

"Oh, saving the world, you know, the usual," Abby said with a smile.

"Mostly what we've always done," McGee agreed. "Well, other than… _us_," he said with a smile.

"It only took you what is it, thirteen years?" Abby nudged him.

"Has it really been that long?" Ziva breathed. _Ten years ago I joined NCIS. Ten years ago I met him._

Abby nodded. "Crazy, right?"

"And what about rule twelve?" Ziva reminded them.

"Gibbs gave up on that a while ago," McGee said.

For a minute, an unspoken wonder floated about the table. Tony… and he had… and she… oh…

Ziva hesitated for a moment. "Did you add anyone new to the team?"

"Vance tried for like, six months after you left, but no one felt up to it. But eventually, the work got to be too much, and Gibbs gave in," Abby said.

"Hired a new girl, Jessie Deere. Green, young, ambitious. Quick learner though," McGee added.

"But she's no replacement for you," Abby quickly said.

"Nope," McGee agreed. "Nothing's been the same since you left,"

Ziva's polite smile fell.

"Why Boston?" Abby asked.

"It wasn't here," Ziva said, staring into her hands.

"What was?" Abby pressed.

Ziva shook her head and took a breath. "Ah, just, things," she gave a quick smile and shrugged, thankful that the waitress had come to take their orders. _Him. He was here._

That night as they said their goodbyes, having relieved every old memory that did not have to do with Tony, and filling one another in on the details of the past five years, Abby took Ziva aside as McGee went to get the car.

"You can't avoid him forever," she said.

"Abby," Ziva tried.

"No, Ziva, you can't. You can't do this. This is a small city."

"It has millions of people in it,"

Abby gave her a look. "Sooner or later it'd come to this. You know that, right? Everyone has to face their past at some point."

"Tony does not define my past, Abby."

Abby looked at her for a long moment. "I think he does. Part of it, at least. The part you want to forget."

"Abby," Ziva said again.

"I know it's not what you want to hear, I know that," Abby assured her. "But it's what you need to hear, and I don't think you've talked to anyone in a long time."

Ziva bit the inside of her lip for a second. "No, not really."

Abby touched her arm kindly. "Call me sometime, okay? We'll get coffee or something?"

Ziva nodded. "I will."

"Okay. Now go home, get some sleep. And don't wallow."

"I never wallow, Abby."

"Yes you do," Abby said, her red-lipstick smile dancing upon her lips once more.

Ziva paused. "Does he know?" _Does he know that I'm back?_

Abby looked at her and pursed her lips a little. "Yeah."

"Did he… did he say anything? Does he want to see me?"

"To tell you the truth, he didn't say anything all day after I told him,"

"Oh…"

"You were gone for so long," Abby tried to explain.

"I know," Ziva said. She looked behind Abby's shoulder. "McGee is here."

Abby hugged her. "Think about what I said?"

"I will," Ziva assured her.

They said their goodbyes and Ziva walked to her car silently, lost in a cornucopia of thoughts and emotions.

* * *

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	5. Of the Rising Dust

**A/N: Morning! Happy winter! I suppose I should have said that yesterday, but it didn't occur to me until today. I love winter—it's one of my favorite times of year.**

**Today's chapter is, well, interesting. Everything you read, everything you hear—don't forget it, because it'll be brought up again. That, I can assure you. I was going to cut this even shorter, but I couldn't do that to you guys.**

**I just wanted to thank you guys again for all of the incredible reviews. Currently at 99 reviews for 4 chapters. This is unheard of for my work, and I think you all are just so good to me, and I hope this story makes you all as happy as you do me. So yeah, thank you again.**

* * *

"_Things are not always what they seem; the first appearance deceives many. The intelligence of a few, perceives what has been carefully hidden." --Phaedrus_

* * *

A gentle rain pattered on Ziva's window as she closed the door to her apartment. She gave a sigh of relief.

Relief that no one had asked about why she had left. It was a question she couldn't answer, not now, not today. Not ever.

The phone rang and Ziva moved to answer it. "David," she said, a habit she had been unable to let go of from her time as an agent.

"Agent David, how are you?" the male voice asked.

Ziva shut her eyes. "I am fine, sir, thank you. And you?"

"I'm well. How are you settling in?"

"It's… it's great."

"Have you made contact with anyone from NCIS?"

"Yes, I have."

"Good, that's good… How is… everything else?"

"Fine," she replied coldly.

"Any progress?"

Ziva paused. "No, sir, no progress."

"You'll keep me updated, then?"

"Of course."

He hung up the phone and Ziva set it down. A cloud had seemed to set over Ziva, and she wasn't sure whether it arrived when McGee walked into her room, or when she first drove into DC.

But if Gibbs had taught her anything, it was this: trust your gut. And tonight, Ziva's gut was telling her to run.

* * *

Gibbs sat in the squadroom, dark and quiet, the team having gone home for the weekend. His gut had been bugging him since his conversation with Ziva. He glanced up and sighed, deciding to go for it.

He made his way to Vance's office—he knew he hadn't gone home quite yet, and if he could catch him now…

"Gibbs," Vance greeted him, unsurprised by Gibbs' intrusion. He was packing up his briefcase for the weekend, thankful to finally be able to go home.

"Leon,"

Vance sighed and sat back down. "What's on your mind?"

"Ziva,"

"We've been over this—she resigned. I tried to stop her, but she was stubborn. Like you."

"Why'd she leave, Leon?"

"I don't know. She's been in this business for a long time. Probably got tired of it,"

"She was doing just fine—happier than I'd ever seen her. What changed?"

"I told you, Gibbs, I don't know. She wouldn't tell me," Vance looked at him. "Why didn't she tell you? I thought you were very close,"

"We were," Gibbs confirmed. "But she never told me," Gibbs said, in his eyes a look of defeat. Suddenly, Gibbs took a step forward, suspicious again. "You know she was back in DC?"

"No," Vance replied. "I didn't."

_This goes deeper than you or me or Mossad or Vance._

"Who sent in her formal resignation?"

Vance's brow furrowed and he stood, walking over to his file cabinets. "What are you thinkin', Gibbs?"

He shrugged. Vance pulled out the appropriate drawer and found the file. He took it to his conference table and set it down, flipping through the pages until he found the right one.

"Ziva's file?"

"That it is," Vance said. He picked up a piece of paper and glanced at Gibbs. "You're not going to like this."

"Who?"

Vance handed him the sheet of paper.

"The Office of the Secretary of the Navy?"

* * *

"The SecNav gave her these orders?" Gibbs nearly shouted. "You _were_ going to tell me about this, _Leon_?"

"We don't know that. All we know is that she filed her resignation with his office first."

"You really believe he had nothing to do with this?"

"What do you think happened, Gibbs? You think he _forced_ her to leave? Have you even talked to her about this?"

"Yes, I have! She wouldn't tell me."

"What _did_ she say?"

"She said this starts way up at the top, Leon—higher than you. That means him."

"You have no proof."

"I have this piece of paper—that's enough for me."

"How about you talk to her again? We'll get the facts, we'll go from there," Vance said, heading for his phone.

* * *

Ziva sat in the conference room nervously. Gibbs knew. He had to know. Vance had to know. Why else would she be at NCIS at eleven at night?

She looked around. It was so familiar, this building, this place. It was as if time had stopped just for her, so still and surreal. Had it all been a dream?

Her long, drapey cream sweater did nothing for the cold glare Gibbs gave her as he walked in, like a shot to the heart. Vance followed, a file in his hand. Ziva closed her eyes for a moment, mentally preparing herself for the shots to come.

"Miss David," Vance greeted her.

"Why am I here?" she asked quietly.

"You know exactly why you're here," Gibbs said, his voice low.

"SecNav," Vance said simply.

"Yes. I filed my resignation with him."

"Personally?" the Director asked.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Why?"

Ziva shook her head. "I cannot… I cannot say."

"You should."

Ziva's head snapped to Leon. "You should ask him."

"And what is it he'll tell me?"

"I suppose you'll have to wait and see," Ziva said, shaking her head a little. She couldn't meet Gibbs' eyes. She couldn't face the distrust, betrayal, confusion, and hurt in them. She couldn't tell him the truth either.

* * *

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	6. Of the Past

**A/N: Hello, welcome to chapter 6 of **_**And Then, It's Called Grace**_**. I know things are looking bleak right now, and the next chapter or two may be a little, meh, but I promise: there is definitely hope. Things will start looking up in due time.**

**In this chapter, there's a lot of answers, and a lot of questions. I know a lot of you are confused, but I wrote it that way—it'll make more sense as time goes on.**

**Autumn**

* * *

"_Unfortunately, a super abundance of dreams is paid for by a growing potential for nightmares." --Sir Peter Ustinov_

* * *

Ziva's head rest in her hand as she dozed in and out of a restless sleep. Gibbs made her stay the night in the conference room until SecNav could come in the next morning—Vance refused to call him so late at night for a matter that did not concern national security.

Dreams haunted her in the dimly lit conference room.

"_Why didn't you tell me, Ziva? Why'd you just go and leave?" Tony cried, throwing his hands in the air._

"_I had no choice," Ziva spout._

"_You always had a choice. You've had a million choices in the ten years since we met, and none of them were the right one,"_

"_I made the choice to stay at NCIS. I thought you actually appreciated that one,"_

"_Oh, sorry, I kind of forgot about that one after you left again!" Tony yelled. A single tear streamed down Ziva's face and he ran a hand through his hair. "I can't forgive you," he said._

"_I know," Ziva replied. "Neither can I,"_

"_Goodbye, Ziva David," he said, walking away as a curtain of brilliant orange and yellow flames flew up around her, trapping her with no way out._

"_Tony!" she tried to call him back, but the fire was drowning her. "Tony!"_

"David. Wake up," Gibbs said. Ziva opened her eyes and spotted the small cup of coffee before her.

"Thank you," she said, taking it in her hands, a small gesture to show that he wanted her to be innocent. She took a long sip, thankful that it was only some semblance of a nightmare, and not reality… yet.

"SecNav will be here momentarily," Vance said, entering the room. "And Agent DiNozzo."

"Tony?" Ziva asked.

"SecNav's suggestion."

"Is it absolutely necessary?" Ziva asked. Vance gave her a look, and for a moment, she almost said sorry, but stopped herself. _Sign of weakness._

The door opened and a figure walked in. He didn't look at her, and for a moment, she felt as if she might be dreaming again.

"Tony," she whispered, eyes filled with confusion.

He avoided her attempts at making eye contact. He hadn't changed much. His hair has hints of gray, and his face looked a little older. He looked weary, but not from lack of sleep. He looked defeated.

_Tell me I did not do this to him._ She reminded herself to breathe, to take things one step at a time, to fall back on her training, rusty with abandon.

"Agent DiNozzo," Vance greeted him as he sat down.

"Director," he said.

"You are aware of what this is about?" Vance prompted.

"Yes, sir, I am," he confirmed and Ziva shut her eyes for a brief moment, mentally head slapping herself as she watched the SecNav walk in the room.

"Mr. Secretary," Vance greeted him, offering his hand.

"Leon," he said. "Gibbs," he sat down at the end of the table. "Now, why am I here?"

Vance handed him a copy of the paper he had found the night before in Ziva's file.

"We were curious as to the nature of this… document."

"What did Agent David tell you?" he said, using Ziva's previous title that made her feel as if she was being slapped across the face. He examined the sheet, though it was clear he already knew its contents.

"She didn't," Gibbs said. "She said we would have to talk to you,"

The Secretary looked at Ziva for a moment. "Agent David did not leave NCIS of her own free will," he said. "Well, not on paper."

"What happened?" Leon prompted, exchanging a look with Gibbs, who then looked at his agents, or rather, his agent and former agent. Both were staring at the grain of the hardwood conference table, eyes focused, minds elsewhere, lips held tight.

"It was a cover up," Tony said in a low voice, angry.

"A what?"

"Tony," Ziva snapped, her heart aching.

"They wanted the truth," he said, still not looking at her. "I messed up, five years ago," he finally met her eyes, and she knew that he finally understood what had happened. They were darker now. Shrapnel took to her heart as she watched him. "And Ziva, took the blame."

* * *

"_I'm bored."_

"_I will give you something to think about if you do not shut up," Ziva said, looking out the window of the car, eyeing the house. They had been staking out the Michlein house for two days, and Gibbs was almost certain this was their guy, the one who had been killing of high-profile Navymen._

"_Fine," Tony said, pulling out a bag of chips from thin air. He began to crunch on them loudly._

"_I said to shut up," Ziva snapped._

"_You told me to shut up, not the chips," he said, but he put the chips away for later._

"_Quit being such a baby."_

"_Oh, I'm a baby? Who's the one who need's perfect silence here like a whiny kid who needs a nap? Oh right, that'd be you," he said sarcastically._

_Ziva rolled her eyes and moved on. "No activity for the past two days. Something is hinky."_

"_You mean like murdering? Yeah, I'd say that qualifies as hinky. You know, maybe he's just not here," Tony suggested._

"_Maybe he knows. Maybe he's waiting for us. There has been no movement on his cell phone, car, or credit cards. He hasn't even turned on the lights in two days."_

"_Maybe he has a secret escape route and it goes underground and--"_

"_This is not one of your movies, Tony. People do not just build underground tunnels."_

"_Virginia's full of 'em. Used to be a slave state. You should know that from your citizenship studies." He said, grabbing for the binoculars in her hands._

_She swatted his hands away. "I know that."_

"_Did not."_

"_Did too. In fact, I knew that long before I ever came to the United States," she boasted._

"_Hmph," Tony said._

_She was quiet for a second as she studied the house. "I do not like this, something feels off," Ziva said, looking around nervously._

"_Last time you said that--"_

"_I know," she said. She didn't need to be reminded. The last time she had said that, Jenny died. Tony sighed. "But you agree with me," she realized._

"_Yeah, I do," he admitted._

"_So what do we do?"_

_It was then that two gunshots went off. "Guess that answers that question," Tony said as the exited the car quickly, pulling out their weapons._

_They rushed toward the door across the road. Ziva nodded to Tony and she opened the door silently for him and he moved in quickly. She stayed on his six, and they went down the hall, clearing rooms as they went._

_They heard a muffled scream come from the back room of the house. Ziva motioned to Tony, and he knocked down the door._

"_NCIS!" he called before he could take in the scene._

_The missing Commander was tied in a chair, a hood over his head. Michlein stood in front of him, a nine-millimeter SIG in his hand, a ski mask over his face._

"_Put down your weapon or I shoot!" Tony warned him._

"_I can't," Michlein said._

"_Put it down. We can talk about this," Tony said. "I don't want to shoot you,"_

"_Neither do I," he said and raised his weapon a little higher. Tony shot. A perfect headshot. He fell to the floor without a word._

_Ziva moved to the Commander and pulled off the hood. "No," she breathed._

"_What?"_

_The man began to laugh wickedly. "Wrong one,"_

"_Michlein," Tony said, eyes wide._

"_You cannot be serious," Ziva said as she pulled off the mask from the second man's head. "This is the Commander," she said._

_Tony felt the sinking in his heart._

"_You've got seconds," the real Michlein warned sadistically._

"_What?" Tony said._

_It was then that Ziva noticed the beeping, growing louder, faster, stronger with every moment. "Tony!" she cried. She took his hand and they ran out of the room, out the backdoor just as the entire house exploded into a fire, flames brilliant and dangerous. They were thrown to the ground but were uninjured._

_Tony looked back at the house, breathing heavily. "This is not good."_

* * *

**If you feel like their reunion and the explanation was totally anticlimactic, don't worry. There's a purpose to all of this. There'll be more explanation in the next chapters, I promise. : ) Just hold on! There's more to it. There's always more to it.**

**Don't forget to review!**


	7. Of Sacrifice

**A/N: Merry Christmas Eve! Today's chapter is extra long, in celebration of my favorite season, and because I'm not sure if I'll get to posting tomorrow. And it's also because you guys rock.**

**Today's chapter was sad to write. It sucks, I know, for now. But trust me, we're about to get to a really good place in the story, just hold on for me, okay?**

**Merry Christmas!**

**Autumn**

**

* * *

**

_"We all have dreams in our heads, words in our mouths, stories on our skin and ghosts in our hearts. We are little haunted houses. Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming." --End of March_

* * *

"You shot Commander Willis," Gibbs said.

"That's correct," Tony said.

"And Ziva took the blame,"

Ziva shut her eyes before looking to Gibbs. "Michlein had him armed with a standard issue SIG, the same one we—NCIS uses. He wired Willis to a bomb, ordered him to tie him up, and aim to shoot. If he shot, the bomb would go off—Michlein had a backup system,"

"He knew that once we were inside, the bomb would go off before we noticed it was even there," Tony explained.

Leon looked through Ziva's file. "It says here that _you_ shot Willis,"

"Like I said. Cover up," Tony filled in.

"The Secretary called me that afternoon, before we had any real chance to explain what happened to anyone, before any reports were filed," Ziva said. "He said that if I took the blame for killing a Navy officer in the report, Tony's career would remain unblemished, and I could go free with a college education and a monthly allowance, whatever I needed."

"You blackmailed her?" Gibbs cried, nearly ready to pounce the Secretary.

"No, Gibbs, this was my choice. I had been working in this job my whole life, but Tony had his entire career ahead of him. I… I wanted to do it."

"You perjured to save your jobs?"

"No," Ziva said. "I did this to give Tony a chance," she said, so honestly.

"You knew, all this time?" Gibbs asked Tony.

"I didn't… I didn't make the connection. She left a month after it happened. I thought we had gotten past it, but I should've figured—no one asked me about it, nothing."

"What about the reports?" Vance asked.

"I got a request from the Secretary to send mine into him. I guess he made the switch and got Ziva out of here."

"And I got the reports from the Secretary," Vance said.

"Your name seems to be coming up a lot, _Mr. Secretary_," Gibbs said, looking at him in a way that would make lions tremble.

The Secretary sighed. "Things did not look good for the agency. Ten high-positioned Navy personnel had been murdered by Michlein. NCIS had killed the last one, and all the evidence, including both the bodies were destroyed. I was only cleaning up the mess your agents made."

"You should have dealt with me directly," Gibbs said, thrusting his finger on the table in emphasis.

The SecNav shook his head and stood. "Now that everyone has their stories straight, I have a meeting at the Pentagon to get to. Leon," he nodded. "Gibbs. Agents," he walked out of the room, as mysterious as he had arrived.

Vance sighed and walked out silently, nothing in his control any longer.

Neither Tony nor Ziva dared to even think of moving from where they sat, Gibbs nearly visibly steaming. "I don't even know where to begin," he said, standing and pacing.

"I am sorry, Gibbs," Ziva said, though she knew the apology was useless to him.

"Sorry? You get yourself involved in a cover-up and tear up my team and disappear for five years only to come back and say 'sorry'?"

"I know it's not enough. I know I… I did it to save his career, to give him a chance!"

"I can take care of myself just fine, Ziva," Tony said, her name so painful on his tongue.

"I did it for you!" Ziva said, and for a moment, they were back in Israel. "You got to keep your career. You got to keep your life,"

"While you gave up everything," Tony sighed, and he knew she had done what she thought was best. "You shouldn't have done this, Ziva,"

"I question myself about that every day, every hour, every minute I am not here with this team. It has been five years, seven months, twenty-six days, three hours, and forty-two minutes. I knew exactly what I was giving up, and while I wondered what my life would have been like had I not made that choice, I knew it was worth it," she said. She stood and walked over to Gibbs who stood by the window. "You taught me to follow my gut, to trust my instincts. When I made that choice, I knew I was doing the right thing."

"You abandoned my team," he said.

"And that, I do regret. I regret leaving everyone behind, I regret not being there for McGee's first commendation, or to hear Abby announce that they were dating, or to see Tony take on so much responsibility, or to hear about how your goddaughter is doing. That kills me, every second of every day," Ziva cried.

"I thought it was my fault," Tony spoke up.

"Why would you think that?" Ziva breathed, looking at him.

"You know it was. I shot Willis. I killed him. He was innocent and I don't deserve this badge," he said, pulling it off his belt, standing.

"Don't you dare, DiNozzo. One of us should be fighting the bad guys, putting away the criminals," Ziva commanded. "You couldn't have known," she turned to Gibbs. "Tell him! Tell him I'm right!"

Gibbs searched her eyes. "She's right," he said, not looking away, quieting for a moment as he thought. "She took your punishment, DiNozzo. Least you could do is say 'thanks,'" he said, walking away.

"Gibbs," Ziva said, stopping him. _What about us? Do you forgive me?_

"I need time, Ziva," he said.

Ziva nodded slowly. "I know."

He looked at her strangely. "And just between us—is that it? Is there anymore to this story?"

Ziva swallowed. _Yes._ "No. That is all."

Gibbs cocked his head, but left the room silently.

Ziva looked down and leaned against the table. "This was not how I imagined seeing you again for the first time," she said.

"Well, no one cued the epic soundtrack," Tony agreed, copying her motion.

"Ten years, and I still do not understand what you say half the time," Ziva laughed.

"Yeah, well if you had stayed for the last five, you might get it more now," he replied quietly.

"Tony," she tried.

"No, Ziva."

Ziva looked at him. "This was not your fault."

"Yes it was. If I hadn't shot Willis--"

"Then I would not have a second chance. Now, I build lives. Not destroy them," she finished.

Tony was quiet for a moment, trying to calm himself. "You miss it, here, I mean?" he finally asked, though his eyes were still storming and his heart was still raging and his mind was still so conflicted.

She nodded and pursed her lips. "Every day," Ziva replied. She turned to him, eyes almost teary. "Tony, I am sorry--"

"Ziva, I realized that I am a lot more like Gibbs than I thought. Everyone always told me that and you know, I get that now. And like him, I need some time."

Ziva looked up at him, eyes soft. "I understand. I owe you that much."

Tony gave her a ghost of a smile. "You've already given me a lot," he said before walking out of the room, leaving her alone.

Ziva shut the door with a sigh of relief, finally home from a horrendous ten hours spent at NCIS. She stumbled to the kitchen and set on a kettle, planning to have a cup of tea.

While waiting for it to boil, Ziva walked to the couch and lay down, closing her eyes in wait. But before she could stop herself, she fell asleep.

_Chinese. They always went for Chinese._

_Over the past months, Tony and Ziva had found themselves growing close once more, the Rivkin-Israel-Mossad-NCIS-Somalia-terrorist fiasco finally behind them. They were starting fresh, and perhaps in an unspoken decision, through Chinese. They went for Chinese a couple of times a week—after a case, or when they had nothing to do Friday night, or when Gibbs let them off early on a slow day. _

_Tony would complain about chopsticks and Ziva would use them expertly. He would make a joke, and she would laugh. They would chat and share and speak of happy, light things. They might take a walk after dinner down the twinkle-light-lit streets, a particularly cheery part of town shining on them happily._

"_Your orange chicken any good?" Ziva asked, motioning to his plate with her chopsticks._

"_Yeah—the new recipe is definitely better than the old one," he commented, gesturing for her to have some._

_Ziva picked a piece from his plate as he casually chose a slice of sweet-and-sour pork from hers. "How do you know it's a new recipe?"_

"_The DiNozzo's have finely bred taste buds," he grinned._

"_Right," Ziva laughed and placed the chicken in her mouth. She rolled her eyes with a smile. "You were right."_

_Tony gave a miniature bow. "Thank you very much."_

"_You still see any of your old frat brothers?" Ziva suddenly asked._

"_Why—you want me to set you up?" chuckled._

"_Not if they're anything like you," she laughed._

"_Oh, gee, thanks," he replied. "But no, haven't seen any of them in a few years,"_

"_I thought you were all very close,"_

"_Eh, people have to grow up. My buddies didn't," he shrugged._

"_Words I never thought I'd hear from your mouth," Ziva laughed._

"_Yes, well, I'm a multi-dimensional character."_

"_James Bond wasn't," Ziva pointed out._

"_Oh, really? You think so?"_

"_I do. James Bond was obsessed with guns, beautiful women, gadgets."_

"_And I'm not?"_

_Ziva eyed him for a moment. "Not anymore."_

_Tony leaned forward from across the table. "Oh?"_

"_Like you said," she replied, leaning towards him to meet him, their faces only inches apart. "People grow up."_

_A small, but genuine smile danced upon his face. "Thanks."_

"_You're welcome," she smiled at him, for the briefest of moments, they wondered the same thing._

Ziva awoke to the shriek of her kettle. She moaned and got up from the couch, moving to the kitchen to turn off the heat. She made her tea and sat down on her window seat, shaking her head at herself.

She had been having dreams like this since she left NCIS five years ago. But they were never dreams, not the normal kind of flying or superpowers. These dreams were memories, clear and pristine, crisp with the pain of years passed by and chances lost.

Ziva leaned over and set her cup of tea on the small barstool she used as a side table and picked up her journal from its place beneath.

_Dear Tony,_

_Today was exhausting._

_I can't talk about it. I can't._

_But you know now. Some of it, anyway._

_I did it all for you, because you did so much for me. The sacrifice was worth it. You got to live your life. You got to keep your career, everything you had._

_But I am sorry. I am so sorry for hurting you. But like I said—it was all for you._

_Ziva_

Tony sat in the empty hallway, silently resting his arms on his knees, still.

He fingered in his hand a worn photo, rubbing the shining sun in its background as he had so often done.

It was of Ziva—a snapshot he had taken once upon a time, on accident one day when they were taking a walk on a slow day, the year she came back. The light was so soft, and she was laughing at something he had said, and her eyes were focused on his. It was such a real moment. Her hair was curly and down, the way it was when they first met. It was one of his favorite memories of her. He knew it was a cliché to carry a photo of a long lost love, but he needed to see her face. He needed not to forget, though he would find her smile was etched upon his hurting heart anyway.

All those years she was gone and there was nothing he could do, it felt like he was asleep. He always felt that it was his fault, that he was to blame, that she left because of him. It was never something he could pin point, never something he could find a tangible explanation for. It was never something that made sense to anyone else, but he could never shake that shadow, no matter how bright the sunshine.

_I did it for you_, she said.

For you.

He had told her that once, so long ago.

He invaded her personal privacy, he broke protocol, he risked his career, he risked his life, he risked everything for her. Tony remembered watching her from behind those doors at the hospital, his arm in a sling and blood on her sleeve. He remembered being so aware that she might never forgive him, that she might never speak to him again, that she might hate him forever.

And he knew what he did was right. He knew he made no mistake, he knew he had to kill Rivkin—it wasn't something he wanted, but in that moment, the shard of glass glinting with a spark of light and such wickedness in Rivkin's eyes...

He knew he did what he had to do.

He didn't regret that.

"Hey Tony," a sweet voice said from the end of the hall.

"Hey Abs," he greeted her as she joined him, sitting beside him. "Something wrong?"

Tony shook his head. "I don't know," he said, speaking more to himself than to her.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really," he admitted.

"Okay, that's fine," she said contentedly. She paused for a moment. "Ziva?"

Tony nodded, looking at her for a moment. "Yeah, Ziva."

"You know why she left," she realized. "You finally know why."

"Yeah, Abs, I do."

"And? She finally tell you it wasn't your fault?"

He sighed. "Fault? Maybe not. But she left… she left for me."

"Because of you?"

"No. _For _me."

"Oh," Abby realized.

"She left her whole life behind, put it all on the line for me," he said softly, amazed, gazing at the photo in his hand.

"I'm not surprised," she commented.

Tony looked at her. "Why not? I didn't deserve it. She took my punishment, she took everything I should have taken. She gave everything up that I should have given up. Why would she do a thing like that?"

"Ziva always saw that there was more to you. Always believed in you," Abby said. "You put everything on the line for her when you went to save her."

"I didn't know she was alive when I went."

"That proves my point, Tony. You cared about her enough to go risk your life even when you didn't know she was alive. Tony, if that's not love…" Abby didn't finish her words. "She just did what you did for her."

Tony sat there in silence. "She wants me to forgive her."

"You should."

"She left for five years, without a word, without an explanation. You said it yourself—after everything I did for her, didn't I deserve answers?"

"Maybe you should talk to her. But Tony," Abby said, standing. "If you were the man she thought you were, then we both know it was never about what she deserved then and it's not about what you deserve now. It's more than that."

"Then what is it?" he asked, looking up at her, eyes desperate but voice calm and questioning.

"It's grace."

**Don't forget to review! **


	8. Of the Light

**A/N: Hey! I hope your Christmases went well and you all had lovely times—I did. : )**

**Thanks for the fabulous reviews to the last chapter. Today's chapter is kind of like taking a deep breath after you rise to the surface. It's kind of the start to some new things in this story, and I really like how it worked out. **

**Listen to this chapter with "Amy's Song" by Joshua Radin—it's a sweet, calming song and really sets the tone for the chapter.**

**Enjoy!**

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_"In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present." --Francis Bacon_

* * *

A knock sounded at Ziva's door the next morning, too early. She went to bed after finishing her tea and fell asleep quickly into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

Ziva sighed and didn't get up from her large bed, white down comforter pulled around her body tightly. She hoped they might just go away. But after what felt like an hour but was in reality only minutes, Ziva dragged herself out of her bedroom and made her way to the door.

"What could you possibly want?" she mumbled as she opened the door before she saw who stood in its threshold. She blinked hard as her eyes focused on the visitor. "Tony." For a moment, she thought nothing had changed and she had never left and he was here to pick her up for a case, and perhaps all that had happened in the past five years was just a dream. Or nightmare.

"Hey, Ziva," he said, hands stuffed in his pockets, and suddenly reality was as clear as his honest green eyes. "Got your address from Abby," he explained.

Ziva blinked, remembering she hadn't told him. "Would you like to come in?"

"Ah, sure," he said and she moved so he could enter.

Ziva glanced at the clock. "It is four in the morning," she realized.

"Sorry, I know it's early," he said.

"Do not apologize, Tony."

"Sign of weakness."

Ziva gave him a half smile. "That's right."

They stood for a moment, quiet until Tony spoke. "Hey, I know it's early, but I didn't want to wait. I've been up all night."

"It is fine. I went to bed early," she said, heading toward the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure." He followed her into the kitchen. "Nice place."

"It is not much, but it suits my needs," she said as she began to prepare their coffee. She turned to him when she was finished, now feeling much more awake.

"Nice outfit," he smiled.

Ziva rolled her eyes at her sweatpants and tank top, layered with her drapey cardigan. "Thank you," she said sarcastically.

He chuckled nervously and hesitated before he spoke again. "I just wanted to say… I want to try again."

"Try?"

He shifted anxiously. "When you left, I… I was really hurt. It really sucked." His eyes were focused on the ground.

"I know," she said quietly.

"And sometimes, it still hurts," he fingered the photo in his pocket. "But I want to try and forgive you," Tony looked at her now, eyes meeting sincerely. "It could take some time. But… I don't know, I think I get why you did what you did."

"Thank you," Ziva said. "I… Thank you."

"I… You think we could start again? Go for coffee sometime or something?"

Ziva smiled softly. "I would like that."

"Good," he said, relieved. "Good."

The coffee maker beeped and Ziva poured some in a pair of cups, handing one to him. She gestured to the couch and he sat on one end while she curled up in her armchair. "Thanks. So… What've you been up to all these years?"

Ziva smiled and looked down at her cup. "You would not believe me if I told you."

"Try me," he looked at her mischievously, the way he used to. Part of him still felt so shocked. One day she wasn't there, and the next she was, like a ghost. But Ziva had always been mysterious.

"I went to college. I got my teacher's certificate. And I have been teaching at a prep school since August."

"Here in DC?"

Ziva nodded. "History,"

"History," he repeated, almost amused.

"Guess all of that citizenship test studying really paid off," he smiled.

"I suppose so," she said, and their eyes intertwined in another time.

"So, does it make you happy?"

Ziva's eyes shifted away, and her smile fell a little. "It is rewarding," she chose her words carefully.

"But you're not happy?"

Ziva looked at him. "Not in the same way I was," _when I was with you_, she finished in her mind, unable to say the words themselves. She gazed at him for a long moment, and he stared right back.

"It's weird," he said knowingly. Her brow furrowed just a little, though she knew exactly what he was talking about. "You, and me. Seeing you, and it not being…" _a dream_. "It's just weird. It's kinda…"

"Surreal," she said. Tony nodded. Ziva stood, walking to the kitchen to refill her cup. "Would you like more?"

"Sure," he said, his eyes following her. He stood and walked with her to her kitchen, leaning against the threshold. He watched her movements, still swift like a panther, dark and always aware, and yet graceful.

"Stop staring, Tony," she said, though he could hear the smile in her voice. She walked over to him, their mugs in her hands.

"Ninja senses still sharp, I see," he grinned a little. It softened as she stood there, looking up at him. He found himself raising his hand to touch her cheek, and she merely stood still, holding her breath. _You are real_, he thought. He took his hand back after a moment, but she didn't dropkick him or punch him or shoot him or walk away.

Instead, she took a long moment to smile at him, searching his face with her sweet eyes, and it finally seemed like it might be all okay.

* * *

Gibbs was in his basement, the scent of sawdust calming him, helping him think, sort out all the things going on in his mind.

Though he knew Ziva had ultimately done it all for Tony's own good, there was still a gnawing feeling in his gut. Perhaps it had been there long ago, when Ziva had first left.

They had looked for her. They tried to find her. But she had disappeared. And then, they couldn't handle it anymore. The team needed to move on. He hated it, he hated knowing it, but they didn't have a choice.

And now, she was back, and she was hoping for forgiveness.

* * *

**Don't forget to review!**


	9. Of Small Answers

**A/N: 'Afternoon!**

**So there was a bit of confusion as to why Ziva was apologizing in the last chapter, so I'll explain: Ziva left without a word, without a trace. After everything they'd been through, her coming and leaving and after all of the secrets and betrayal they all dealt with in the previous five years together, it hurts. Gibbs and Tony feel as if she owes them answers, answers she never gave until it come to a smashing ultimatum with the Secretary, and we all know how they feel about cover-ups. They do, however, know what she did was the right thing, that she was trying to do something good, and that knowledge, that idea will eventually lead them to a much better place. Yeah, it doesn't entirely make sense, but a person walks out of your life one day and walks in again five years later? It's tough to sort out the feelings, the thoughts. They feel torn for now, but they'll try.**

**Today's chapter was really interesting to write. We get another flashback to what happened when she left, and I think it's kind of, well, interesting. It'll be continued in the next chapter. These are actually a couple of my favorites, so it's fun stuff right here.**

**Enjoy!**

**Autumn**_"The farther backward you can look, the farther forward you can see." --Winston Churchill_

* * *

The following Monday, Tony returned to his work calmly, much more calmly than he had in five years. Usually he would be overly agitated or far too quiet, or tease McGee more than necessary, but they all let him. They all understood. Tony and McGee were like brothers, and they worked well together, and his relationship with Abby had always been a sweet one. They were a family.

But Ziva… Things with her had always been different, and everyone knew it. They had always been closer, mentally, physically—in every way, the connection was so obvious, sometimes they thought if they might just reach out, they'd be able to touch it. But it was like a rainbow, born out of a fiery storm, and eventually, all rainbows disappear.

Today, Tony was alone in the squadroom, and his mind began to drift.

_Tony tapped his desk nervously._

"_You worried?" McGee asked._

_Tony scoffed. "Of course not."_

"_She's two hours late. She hasn't been that late since--"_

"_Yeah, since the Iranians tried to frame her. I remember, McArchive."_

"_Then stop fidgeting."_

"_I'm not fidgeting!" he gave a nervous laugh but his eyes moved to her desk once more._

"_You call her?" McGee asked, though he knew the answer._

"_Uh, yeah. A few times." Seven, actually._

"_Did it ring or go straight to voicemail?"_

"_Straight to voicemail," Tony replied, more thoughtfully now._

"_So it's probably off. Maybe her battery died."_

"_Okay, but then why isn't she here with her dead battery? Ziva's never late."_

"_Maybe she missed her alarm."_

"_It wouldn't matter if she did. She's been getting up at four AM for like, twenty years—I'm pretty sure she can't help it even if she tried."_

_McGee sighed and returned to his paperwork from their latest case. "Just call her again, I'll try and trace it."_

"_You said it was probably off."_

"_Maybe I can get the last known location? I don't know, just cool it. Maybe I can figure something out," he said as he pulled up the appropriate program on his computer._

_Tony dialed her number—speed dial #2—and waited for her to pick up._

"_You have reached Special Agent Ziva David. Leave your name and number and I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can," her calm, steady voice spoke. It was so very straight to the point, so very her. It beeped and he began his message._

"_Hey, it's Tony. Ziva, where are you? Are you okay?" he said, turning away from McGee, speaking softly into the phone. "It's been two hours… Just, call me back when you get this, okay?"_

_He hung up and sat back in his seat, gazing off at hers like he had done the summer before, the summer she had been left behind. It gave him an unsettled feeling in his gut, one he could hardly tolerate. "Anything, McGee?" he asked, his eyes not moving._

"_Nothing."_

_Tony nodded._

Without thinking, Tony dialed her new number. She only gave it to him last night, but he already had it memorized.

"Hey," he said when she answered.

"Tony?"

"Yeah, hi, I, ah…"

"I'm in a class right now," she said, but he could hear her smiling.

"Right, yeah. Um, I just wanted to… I just wanted to say hi, and thanks for the coffee, from the other day."

Back at Allegro Prepatory, Ziva turned away from her students, whose necks were craning to the see the teacher who never spoke of family, friends, or loved ones, much less blushed during a phone call. "You're welcome… Listen, I have to get back to my students," she said, rolling her eyes at the snickers. "But we could get coffee after school or something. About four? That new place on the corner of K Street?"

Tony smiled to himself. "That sounds good. Mostly paperwork today."

"Good luck with that," she chuckled a little. "See you then."

"Promise?"

Ziva's brow furrowed. "Of course."

"Alright then, see you there."

Ziva hung up the phone and smile to herself as she turned back to her class.

"Who was it?" a student asked.

"It was no one," she assured them quickly.

"You blushed," a girl in the front row said skeptically.

"It was an old friend," Ziva explained.

"Good friend," another smirked.

"Yes. He saved my life on… more than one occasion."

"What'd he do?" Jane asked from her seat.

Ziva looked at her, this innocent girl, these students, minds so naïve and unknowing. She was lucky—most of them were good kids, kids who genuinely wanted to do well in life. She couldn't. They deserved better. "Never mind that. And anyone who mentions this again will have to write a two thousand word essay on the principles of the Constitution. Understand?" she said, giving the group a look.

They nodded briefly and moved silently back to their books, but Ziva caught several giving one another glances. She shook her head and picked up her teachers textbook and began where she left off.

* * *

Ziva sat beside Tony on a bench, the world quietly humming around them. Each held a cup of fresh coffee, and each mind held so many questions.

Tony looked at her as she gazed off. She caught him and smiled suspiciously. "What?"

"Why teaching?"

"Teaching?"

"Yeah, why teaching? Why not pick something you didn't have to go to college for, for something you already had the skills for, like… I dunno, why not go work for the CIA? Why not get a spot at the Pentagon or, I don't know, something else?"

Ziva nodded and looked down at her hands briefly. "It was here," _You were here._ "And… I do not know. I don't think I could have done something so similar to what I did before with the team, with, just everything. It would hurt too much."

He looked at her. "I get it, I think… Why history, then?"

"Studying for the citizenship test sparked my curiosity. The United States has such a unique founding—it was for the people, but the people. It would be a place of justice and equality and--"

"Freedom?" he asked, knowing her oh so well, even ten years later. It almost made her shiver, how he read her so transparently.

Ziva nodded as their eyes held together. "Freedom."

Tony sighed contentedly and put his arm over the back of the bench. "Well, Miss American Dream, glad you got yours."

She eyed him. "You should come."

"Come?"

"Come to class some time… Think of it as an olive tree. I think you'd get along very well with some of the students."

"I see American college has done nothing for your American idioms—the term is 'olive branch'. And by students, you mean the attractive, popular ones?" he grinned.

She hit him on the arm playfully, and it felt a little like it used to. "With the trouble makers."

"Ha!" he laughed. "So, Miss David, who were you in high school?"

"Who?"

"What group did you fit into? Cheerleaders?" he looked at her and shook his head. "Not shallow enough. Geeks? Eh..."

Ziva smiled. "Things are slightly different from where I come from, Tony. We had one group that America most definitely does not."

"Which is?"

"Those destined to become killers—for good, and not."

"And which were you?"

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Good. Or at least, I thought so."

"Didn't work out like you hoped it would, did it?"

She shook her head a little. "Not exactly. But… It brought me here."

He smiled at her. "Yes it did."


	10. Of Newness

**A/N: Hey guys!**

**Today's chapter includes another glimpse into when Ziva first disappeared—it's sad, but there's hope, okay?**

**Happy reading, my friends!**

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_ "I think the truly natural things are dreams, which nature can't touch with decay." --Bob Dylan_

* * *

_It had been three hours since Ziva was supposed to be in at work. She hadn't answered her phone, much less turned it on. Her car's GPS had been disabled. They had nothing._

_Gibbs told Tony to go to her apartment, check if she was there while he and McGee worked on calling any of her contacts, anyone she might talk to in the city, as well as her bank records and so on and so forth, searching for any indication as to her whereabouts._

_Tony's breathing grew anxious and his heart sped as he practically ran up to Ziva's apartment. _

_He pounded on her door. "Ziva! Ziva, open up, it's Tony!" He pounded again, but there was no answer. He drew his gun and kicked open the door._

_White._

_It was so white._

_The walls, the entire apartment—it was empty. Her furniture, the new photos of the team Abby gave Ziva as a welcome-back gift months ago, the plants she had taken to growing—it was all gone. _

_He put his gun back in his holster. Tony knew he wouldn't need it._

_He walked around for a moment, confused, his mind running at a million miles a minute._

_Then it stopped. He saw it. On the island in the kitchen was a single sheet of white stationary, Ziva's sweet handwriting upon it._

"Tony, don't chase me. Please. I'm fine, just… Don't follow me. –Ziva"

_Tony could hear him behind him._

"_She's not here." Tony said._

_Gibbs nodded from his place in the doorway. "I know," he eyed the paper in Tony's hand."What'd she say?"_

_Tony slowly turned around, eyes connected to the words. "Not to look for her."_

"_She say why?"_

_He shook his head. "Nope." He fingered the writing on the card._

"_You gonna?"_

_Tony ran a hand through his hair. "I dunno. Sounds like she's okay, but… The last time I didn't…" he sighed. "Maybe I shouldn't."_

"_Why's that?"_

"_This is my fault," he said, slipping down the wall so stark and white, finding himself sitting at the bottom._

"_You know something I don't, DiNozzo?"_

"_It had to be my fault. Why else would the note be addressed to me?" he flashed it to Gibbs._

"_Because she knew you'd be the one looking for her," Gibbs said. "You always found her. If she was in trouble, she wouldn't have addressed it to you, and her furniture wouldn't be gone."_

"_What if someone's blackmailing her? Or what if--"_

_Gibbs sighed and DiNozzo stopped. "You live your life on what ifs, and you'll crumble."_

"_Like the Berlin wall," DiNozzo said. "I should look for her."_

"_She doesn't want to be found," Gibbs said, though his own heart was breaking._

_Tony laughed a little, sarcastic as he remembered. "When Ziva and I went to Jeanne's apartment, Jeanne left me a note, kinda like this one," he shook his head and looked down at his hands. "Ziva, Ziva wanted to look for her, put out a BOLO, but I knew she didn't want to be found. I told Ziva that."_

"_She knows you'll understand," Gibbs said._

"_Thing is, I don't know why Ziva wanted to find Jeanne. I dunno, I just never got that."_

_Gibbs shrugged. "She cared about you. Wanted you to be happy," he didn't finish his sentence, because there are some things Tony just didn't need to know._

"_Ziva always put others before herself. Didn't matter what anyone said. Coming to NCIS was the first thing she ever did for herself, I think," Tony mused._

"_Maybe that's what she's doing now," Gibbs suggested._

Tony awoke with a start and looked around. He was in his own apartment, his bland décor surrounding him dutifully.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had been dreaming about memories for so long—so few had been original, and if they were, she always invaded them, telling him it was his fault, or finding that she had been killed. He wasn't sure which was worse—the memories or the nightmares.

Maybe it was the continuous presence of guilt.

Tony squinted at his clock. It was three minutes to five, the time his alarm would go off and urge him to go running. He had been doing that for years now. Sometime in between her leaving and his decision to try and move on, he took up running. Mostly because she loved it so much.

Though a healthy and productive activity, Tony was once again reminded each morning at five o'clock—not four, because then he would be mimicking her a little too much—that she was gone, that she left him, and that it was his fault.

* * *

Later that day at work, Abby called McGee into the lab, telling him she had evidence she needed him to give to someone or other.

"Hey Abs, you called?" he said, walking in.

"Shh!" Abby cried, running to the door and pulling it shut, locking it.

"What's going on?"

"We need to talk."

"About what?" he asked, exasperated.

"Tony."

"Tony?"

"And Ziva."

"Ziva?"

"Stop repeating and listen: ever since Ziva left, Tony's been different."

"I noticed," McGee replied sincerely.

"He goes for a run every day at some insane hour. He's quieter. He doesn't date. He doesn't talk about movies. He teases you _way_ more than ever. He works late and it's not because he procrastinates on his paperwork anymore. If anything, I think he does more."

"Yeah, I know all that, Abs. What's the point?"

"Well, ever since Ziva came back, it's like he doesn't know what to do with himself. The man walks around aimlessly after his necessary work is done, but he's so… calm. Serene. It's eerie, McGee."

"Well, he's spent five years of his life grieving and blaming himself. Now that he doesn't have to--"

"Oh, he still blames himself," Abby corrected him assuredly. "That much, I know."

"Now that he doesn't have to _grieve_, he doesn't know how to spend his time."

"Has he seen her at all, since, you know?"

"Since the meeting with SecNav? I don't know. I think. He called Ziva yesterday,"

"He did? Why?"

"I have no idea. He was staring at her desk for like an hour, and then all of a sudden he just called. Already has her number down."

"Geeze."

"I think they went out for coffee."

"Aw!" Abby smiled for a moment, but then she sighed. "It's weird, Ziva being back in our lives… In _his_ life."

"I know," McGee agreed.

"She was gone for so long…"

"When I walked past her classroom, I swore I was dreaming. It was kinda unreal," he said.

"I know," it was her turn to agree. "How much did Tony tell you about the meeting?"

"Not a lot,"

Abby nodded. She had figured as much. "So, what do we do?"

"Nothing," McGee said after a moment. "We just wait."

"Wait for what?"

"For Tony to realize why she did it."

"Why do you think?" Abby said.

"I think… I think he just really loved her," he said, not answering Abby's question.

Abby took his hand, and for a minute, they just stood there quietly. "Me too."

* * *

_Dear Tony,_

_I saw you again yesterday. We had coffee and it felt a little too real for me. We laughed and joked and sometimes it felt like it had never ended in the first place._

_Should it? Should it feel like this? Do we just go back to the way things were?_

_It doesn't feel right, and yet it does._

_I forgot how much I missed getting coffee with you._

_Sometimes I wonder, 'What would have happened if we only had a little more time?' I wondered that the summer Vance sent me back. I wondered that in Somalia. I wondered that when I saw you sitting there. I wondered that when I left again._

_I've left so many times, and each time, I think I leave a little bit more of myself. And then this time, I left you, and then I realized it was harder than leaving a piece of myself._

_And now I'm back… And where do we go from here?_

_Ziva_

* * *

**If you didn't quite catch the connection, both Ziva and Tony have been dreaming memories since she left. This isn't quite important, but it's something you need to understand. **

**Don't forget to review!**


	11. Of Monsters

**A/N: Oh, thanks for amazing reviews guys! Notifications aren't working again, but you guys rock anyway. : )**

**Today's chapter gives us some more background on what they were like before she left, and what Tony was like after. The first part is kinda sad, but it ends on a happy note. The quote for this chapter is one of my favorites too.**

**Special thanks to dizzy – in – the – izzy, who helped me figure out how things are gonna work with this. We determined that chapters will be longer, though perhaps fewer, which is actually a great thing for all of us. Check out her fabulous new NCIS story, **_**Hello, Apathy**_**. It's quite intruiging. **

**Thanks!**

**Autumn**

* * *

_"Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win." --Stephen King _

* * *

A pit of guilt had sunk into Tony's stomach since the moment he shot Commander Willis. He spoke to Mrs. Willis the next day, but she couldn't even look at him.

He went to the funeral a week later, standing behind the crowd at Arlington, peeking from behind the tree.

_Everyone had left. Mrs. Willis was accompanied by what Tony guessed to be a combination of family and fellow Navy wives, holding her as she cried._

_Her sad green eyes were burned into his heart that day, black tears running down her face as she clutched the flag that had hung nobly over her husband's casket. _

_When all had gone and Commander Willis was buried in his final resting place, Tony made his way to the fresh grave. In his hand he held a bouquet of flowers, just some he had picked up—he didn't know anything about what the appropriate flowers to bring would be, but they looked nice._

_He didn't mind waiting all that time. He owed them all that much. He owed the Commander that much._

_The echoes of Taps banged against Tony's heart with each step as he made his way to the grave. He wrung the glowers in his hands for a long moment before setting them on the ground._

"_I'm so sorry." It was all he could say, all he could do. He couldn't help it, he couldn't do a thing. He had killed an innocent man with a family, with no reason to die and every reason to live. "I'm so sorry." And he would wipe away a tear and stand there silently for another hour, unable to speak again._

Tony went back to Willis' grave every couple of months since then, each time bringing flowers or a small American flag to place in his honor. He would say the same thing.

"I'm so sorry."

The trees above were taller now, their shade cooler. The guilt, the blame—it had not subsided. It had just grown quieter, but always present, always there, an unwelcome but deserved companion. He would sometimes sit down and lean against the tree nearest to it, watching the shadows change over the grave, watching them flicker, watching them move.

And he would just gaze.

And feel guilty.

Mostly the latter.

* * *

"_You ever think about what your life woulda been like if you only stayed at NCIS for a little while?" Tony looked at Ziva curiously. They were on a coffee run on a day overflowing with paperwork, and the sky was nostalgic._

_Ziva exhaled and bit her lip, thinking for a minute. "I never planned to stay at NCIS long. I needed a break from Mossad, from Eli, from that… that whole world after Ari died. I convinced Jenny and Eli to create a position for me at NCIS. I did not expect to stay as long as I did. But… yes, I have wondered."_

"_And what'd you think?"_

"_I think I would have been unhappy. Lonely."_

"_What, travelling the world, seeing all the sights, going on exotic missions?" he teased._

_She smiled, though her eyes were a little distant. "It is a surprisingly lonely life. I could not trust anyone," she explained. "I had myself. I had my skills. I had my weapons. I had my secrets. Those things, I could trust. People… Not so much."_

"_Must've sucked."_

"_It did," she said. "It was an exciting adventure when I was young. I felt so much honor and duty to Israel that I did not fully see what Eli, what Mossad's priorities were. I was alone. I thought it would be that way forever. Until…"_

"_Until?" Tony prompted._

"_Until I came to NCIS. Even when I was here at first, with Ari, it was a bit of a shock. I had never met anyone so devoted with such pure desires, not ever. It was amazing to see Gibbs, you, McGee, Abby, all so protective of one another, of Kate. And slowly…" she shrugged. "Slowly I felt like this was home."_

_Tony gave her a small smile. "It always, I don't know, it felt like you had always been here."_

"_It did," Ziva agreed._

"_I'm glad you stayed," he said after a quiet moment, looking down at her with a rare, genuine smile._

_She looked up at him and did the same, eyes sparkling. "Me too."_

_It had been nearly a year since Ziva came home from Somalia. Never had they been so honest nor so open with one another. He would smile so sincerely, and she would look at him with such pride. He was becoming the man she always knew he could be, and she was becoming the happiest she had ever been. They would hang out often, at work, outside of work, with McGee, with Abby, with Ducky, with a combination of the three or just on their own._

_Those days were sweet, and they felt so right. Tony would tease her, and she would strike back, but it would always end in an amused grin or a round of laughter shared by both._

_Those days were perfect._

* * *

Ziva walked down the familiar, worn wood steps tentatively. She eyed the older man working on his boat, sandpaper in his hand. It was a sight so comforting, and so terrifying. Her steps were utterly silent and her breathing did not make a sound.

"Figured you'd be by soon," Gibbs said, though his back was turned to her.

"How did you know I was here?" He turned and just looked at her for a very long moment. He wasn't going to tell her. Ziva sighed and made her way back down the stairs. "I do not know why I came. I just-I don't know, she said, leaning up against the wall the stairs provided. "I do not expect you to have forgiven me. Just-just know that."

Gibbs studied her face. "You should have come to me, Ziva."

"No one else needed to be involved, no one else needed to have their careers ruined, their lives changed forever. I did what I had to do," she said. And she fully believed it. He began sanding again, and she walked over to him, setting a hand on his boat where he was sanding, stopping him from continuing. "What would you have done for your partner? For Jenny?"

"Woulda gone to the ends of the earth," he said quietly.

"Tony did that for me. And every day, I wondered why, why would he do that, for me? He always had my back. It was my turn to have his."

Gibbs was silent for several moments before looking at her softly, seeing the girl she once was in her brown, hoping, pleading eyes. "Okay."

He drew her into a heartbreaking embrace, held her like she was his little girl.

And perhaps, she always was.

* * *

It was lunchtime when Tony called Ziva that Friday, and she was vaguely surprised to hear from him. She was giving him time. He needed it. She owed it to him.

"Hello?" she answered, setting her salad down on her desk.

"Hey," Tony replied, and Ziva smiled.

"Hey,"

"What's going on?" he asked casually.

"Lunch break."

"Oh good, I was hoping to catch you when you weren't busy."

"My students will be disappointed," she chuckled.

"Hm?"

"Nevermind. What's up?"

"Wow, when'd you pick up that colloquialism?" she could hear the grin in his voice.

"What is it, Tony?" she asked, though she smiled.

"I thought maybe we could do something tonight. I know it's short notice and if you have plans, I under--"

"That'd be great," she said.

He sighed, relieved. "Good."

"Any suggestions?"

"No, not really…"

"How about you come over? I'll make dinner, we can watch a movie or something." _It'll be like old times_—she didn't need to say it. They both knew it's what she meant.

"That sounds… That sounds great, Ziva."

"Come over at around six?"

"Only if I can help with the cooking."

"Tony, that is not necessary."

"Yep," he said.

"'Yep' what?"

"You're still stubborn," he replied lightly.

"Alright, fine. You'll bring the movie?"

"Of course."

They said their goodbyes and Ziva looked out the window at the falling autumn leaves. It felt like it had all those years ago.

* * *

**Don't forget to review!**


	12. Of Beauty

**A/N: Hey! Thanks for the awesome reviews for the last chapter. You're all amazing.**

**Today's chapter is one of my favorites—it's generally might lighter and happier. It's set to the song Closer to Love by Matt Kearney—listen to it while you read it for some fabulousness.**

**Enjoy!**

_"There are some people who meet that somebody that they can never stop loving, no matter how hard they try. I wouldn't expect you to understand that, or even believe it, but trust me, there are some loves that don't go away. And maybe that makes them crazy, but we should all be lucky enough to end up with somebody who has a little of that insanity. Someone who never lets go. Someone who cherishes you forever." --Ally McBeal_

* * *

Ziva had finished washing the vegetables for their meal when Tony's familiar knock sounded on the door. She smiled to herself as she wipes her hands and headed toward the door—even his knock was still the same.

"Hey," he grinned when she opened the door. Ziva stepped back and let him in.

"Hey."

"Something smells amazing," he commented as she took his coat. She stood behind him for a second longer than necessary, remembering his scent, so perfect, so right, as if it belonged in her world.

Ziva smiled. "I have not started cooking yet."

"Well then, what's… Nevermind," he said, realizing it was _her_.

"The vegetables need chopping, come on," she said, leading him to the kitchen where he began to work. He watched her for a long moment, and he smiled a little. She caught his eye and looked at him suspiciously. "What?"

He shook his head. "Sometimes I think I might, ah, might be dreaming."

"Dreaming?"

"I dunno. You're just… You're here," he said simply.

Ziva's eyes grew soft for a moment. "So are you." _I've been dreaming too_, she said.

They resumed their work, moving around one another seamlessly as they worked. He would reach around her unnecessarily, taking in her closeness, her scent, her realness. She would brush past him, and their hands would almost touch, and she would smile secretly.

They laughed and remembered old times—pranks on McGee, Abby's crazy ways, Ducky's old stories. They relived long stakeouts and a trip to Paris. They recalled happy times, when not much else mattered. He teased and she joked, and it felt so, so normal. It was natural. It was right.

He saw how her eyes sparkled when she laughed, and for a second, he wasn't sure what was happening to himself when he couldn't speak.

Sometimes she would catch him watching her throughout the night, and sometimes she would catch herself feeling too comfortable with him in her world again.

After they finished dinner, Ziva looked at him mysteriously.

"Follow me," she said, standing.

"Where are we going?"

"Just follow me." Ziva led him out to the roof of the apartment, having grabbed a thick cream sweater.

"What are we doing up here?"

"This is one of my favorite places to go," she said as she grabbed a big box out of nowhere. She pulled out a tripod and something long and circular.

"You got a telescope?"

Ziva nodded. "When I was in college, I took a lot of astronomy classes. It caught my interest and," Ziva shrugged. "I just kind of fell in love with it." She moved to the telescope, now set up, and adjusted it.

"Look," she said, moving so he could look through the eyepiece.

"Wow," he said as he found himself gazing at the stars. "It's beautiful. That star have a name?"

"Probably, but I don't know it," Ziva looked up at the sky and exhaled deeply. "Sometimes I think it's too beautiful to be real."

He looked at her. _Me too_. "If you liked astronomy so much, why didn't you do that instead? You coulda been some awesome astronomer or something."

Ziva swallowed. _I can't tell you why. Not the real reason_. She sat down on the ground and leaned against the ledge. He followed her motion. "When my students ask me why history is important, I tell them that if we can figure out why something happened in the past, we'll know how to do things now, today. We'll know how to stop it, what not to do, what worked, what didn't."

"Guess you'd know a lot about that, wouldn't you," he mused. Ziva looked at him, brow furrowed. "Sorry, that came out wrong."

"You're right though," she said. "There is… there is a lot I have learned. About history. About me…"

"Anything in particular?"

Ziva shook her head. "Nothing I've been able to word. Not yet. But I'm working on it."

"Guess Plato didn't figure everything out right away either."

"No," Ziva agreed, looking up at the stars. "He didn't."

And so they sat there, for quite some time, gazing up at the brilliant sky above. They were close. They were together. They were real, so divinely real, and it felt so right, so divinely right.

"Why are you still a senior agent?" Ziva asked.

"Hm?"

"It has been five years. Why were you not moved or transferred or promoted? You should have had your own team by now—you should have been running the agency or be working at the Pentagon, should have been doing something amazing," Ziva said suddenly.

Tony looked at her, then looked down, his expression at first serious, but growing soft.

"It was my choice," he replied.

"Yours?"

Tony ran a hand through his hair—some things never change. "When you left… I was kinda a wreck. Didn't want to leave the team. I couldn't. I should have, I know. But, uh, I don't know. Something inside of me just turned off."

"Jenny offered you your own team in Rota seven years ago. Vance even tried to give you more experience when he moved you to the Ronald Reagan. What changed?"

Tony shrugged. He couldn't look at her. "Vance… Gibbs… they just kind of got it."

"Got what?"

"When you left… You were gone. And I think a part of me went with you."

A tear stung Ziva's eye, and she suddenly wished she was still able to control her expressions they way she used to, the way she had grown to despise.

"Tony, I'm so sorry. I--"

"It's okay, Ziva. I've still got time. And you know, I like my job. I get to help people in the nitty-gritty way an office suit can't. It's more real down here in the dirt. Besides, Gibbs will probably retire soon. I do most of the field work anyway, but he's still King of the Interrogation Room."

She looked at him and their eyes met, held in time, skipping years and memories until, for a split-second, their universe was in another place, and it was the summer Gibbs was gone and Tony was leader. "I had no idea…"

"Ziva, I promise you. It's fine. You saved my career when I didn't even deserve it."

"Of course you did," she retorted.

"I didn't. I don't. And I don't know why you thought I did, but," he sighed. "I owe you."

"If anything, it is I who owe you,"

"_You were lying on the ground, without adequate backup,"_

"_And double parked," he added in the way he so did._

"_Yes, I noticed… but that does not matter now, just like it does not matter how it worked out… for Michael,"_

"_So what does?"_

"_That you had my back," she said. "That you have always had my back. And that I was wrong to question your motives,"_

"_So why did you?"_

"_I trusted my brother Ari. I trusted Michael. I could not afford to trust you,"_

_He turned and looked at her curiously. "I thought you weren't sure what to say,"_

"_I guess I had a long time to think about… things,"_

"_I'm sorry, Ziva,"_

"_No" she said, taking a step toward him. "It is I, who am sorry," She put her hand on his cheek and leaned up, kissing him softly on the cheek. _

"Well, you're wrong about that. But dessert should be done now and we'd better get it out of the oven before the building burns down," he said, standing and offering his hand.

He helped her up, but held onto her gentle hand for a second longer.

* * *

**Don't forget to review!!**


	13. Of Mending

**A/N: Hey!**

**Today's chapter is extra long because I didn't post yesterday. Which reminds me: Happy New Year!**

**This chapter has its angst and its fluff, but the end scene really makes me smile, as short as it may be. Today we get to see Tony working through everything in his mind and finally coming to some sort of conclusion with it. It's a good chapter, I think, and I hope you think so too. : )**

* * *

_Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them. --Leo Tolstoy_

* * *

Tony drove home that night, mind swirling, thoughts running into one another as a tornado upon the plains of Kansas—he needed to watch _The Wizard of Oz_ again—had Ziva ever seen it, he wondered?

After all these years, she was still so beautiful—he wasn't surprised at the find. No, it was comforting, it was stirring. The glimmer in her smile, the way she would eye him, the tone of her laughter—it was so perfect.

But he wasn't sure how to feel.

Ziva had abandoned him for five years. He slowly drowned in guilt, in blame, in pain. She wasn't there, and he was, and he didn't deserve it. Why had nothing come of his killing Willis? Why had all been silent to him? Why did she leave? Was it something he did? Didn't do?

He thought he should be angry at her for that, for leaving without a word.

But then, she came back, and he learned why she left. She did it for him. She took the blame. She took the punishment. She took every punch, every hit he deserved. She did it so he could keep his life, so he could have a chance at making something of himself. She left the family she had created, she home she had made there. She did it for him.

And he thought he should be grateful to her for that.

Conflict battled in his heart, thunder and lightning going _clash-clash-clash._

* * *

It was a soft, cloudy morning. The birds were quiet and the world was still when Ducky walked out onto his porch to found Tony leaning against a column. He wasn't surprised by the sight; he had been expecting it ever since Abby came over, squealing about Ziva's reappearance in their world, and after Gibbs briefly explained the complicated circumstances concerning her reentrance. Yes, Ducky knew the boy's visit was inevitable.

That morning, he brought out two cups of coffee, one for the young man, and the other for himself.

"Hey, Duck," he said quietly.

"Morning, my dear boy," he said as he sat down on the steps beside him. "What's on your mind?" he asked, handing the mug to Tony who gave him a small smile of thanks.

"Ziva's back."

"I heard. I have plans to have her over for tea sometime soon."

"You heard why she left, then?"

"Ah, yes. Jethro explained," he watched Tony for a moment. "It was for you."

Tony nodded and fingered the mug in his hands. "That's exactly it."

"But that knowledge doesn't bring you as much peace as it does confusion," Ducky realized.

"I don't deserve it," he said in a low voice.

"Ziva obviously thinks you do. She clearly sees that the sacrifice was worth it. She may have left, yes, but it was for you."

"I killed an innocent man."

"And Ziva clearly saw that it was not on purpose, and that you did not deserve the consequences it might bring. Had she not taken the blame, you would have had to quit your job—it's the only way it would have worked out, no doubt. She did it for the team, for the agency, for you."

"She shouldn't have done it."

"But she did, Anthony. She gave you a gift, a second chance. Sometimes we don't deserve it, don't understand it. And then, it's called grace."

"Grace?"

Ducky nodded. He put a kind hand on Tony's shoulder. "Forgiveness is not a mere feeling, Anthony. It's a choice. A decision to try and love that person anyway, to not hold on to what that person did, and to let go of bitter feelings."

"That easy, huh?"

"No, Anthony. Sometimes it takes time. But it's the trying that counts."

Tony looked at Ducky for a second, then back up at the sky. "Maybe you're right," he exhaled.

"Of course I am," Ducky said with a smile. "Will you come inside? I was just about to make some waffles."

Tony grinned. "Sure." They stood, and Ducky began to walk back inside. "And Ducky?" the doctor stopped and looked at the man. "Thanks."

"Of course. Now come in, it's chilly out here."

* * *

Ziva loved the weekends. She always made sure she graded papers very diligently during the week so that come Friday, she would have no obligations, no real responsibilities.

The weekends used to be predictable, before she met the team again, because she came back to DC. She would wake up alone, make breakfast alone, go for a walk alone, go grocery shopping alone, browse the bookstore alone, come home alone, make dinner alone, watch an old movie alone, go to sleep alone. And the next day she would repeat it.

Usually, it didn't feel lonely. Usually, it felt normal. And she did love the break, the relief it provided. But it was those few moments, those moments inbetween wake and sleep, where dreams blurred with reality, that she so desperately wished nothing had ever changed.

But now that she had real, tangible people in her life again, she wasn't sure what to do.

Fortunately, she was saved early in the day by Abby who called her and asked for coffee. Ziva complied gratefully, and they met an hour later, hot cups in their hands, steaming with delights.

"How was your week?" Abby asked her, pulling her black fingerless gloves closer to herself.

"Mmm, it was fine," Ziva said, taking a sip of her hot apple cider. "Tony and I had dinner last night," she said casually.

"Oh really? Are you guys dating? Oh finally. It's so great that after five years you finally have your second--"

Ziva laughed and shook her head. "No, Abby, we are not—no, no. We just had dinner at my place, watched a movie, hung out, that sort of thing… It was… It felt normal."

Abby looked at her, having regained her composure, and smiles softly. "Good… Is he still mad at you?"

"He doesn't seem like it, but I have never been able to read him all that well."

"Oh of course you have. You read him better than anyone else. It kinda freaks him out."

Ziva rolled her eyes but smiled. "And your week? How was it?"

"Pretty normal. McGee and I served dinner at the homeless shelter last night."

"Oh, good for you," Ziva smiled.

"Yeah, it's kind of become our thing. We go at least once a week, if Gibbs doesn't have us work a case."

"That's really great, Abby. I'm happy for you guys."

"Thanks," Abby said, and Ziva noticed the slight blush on her friend's pale cheeks. Abby glanced at Ziva whose eyes were trained on her cup. "Something wrong?"

Ziva shrugged. "What was Tony like… after I left?"

Abby sighed and paused as she thought back. "He wasn't the same. He, uh, kinda lost it for a while there. We were all wondering when he was gonna quit."

"Why didn't he?"

"I don't know. Never found out. You always kept him going, when you were here. Pushed him to be a better man."

"I didn't need to push him. He did it all on his own," she said quietly but seriously.

"He couldn't have done it without you. There's a lot he couldn't do without you."

"He told me he was a 'wreck' when I left. He said that was why he never got transferred or promoted."

Abby nodded. "For the first year or two, he was just kind of there. He did his job fine, but that was all. He just kind of hung there. I think he always hoped you'd come back."

Ziva's heart sunk a little further into the pit of her stomach. "I didn't mean to hurt him. Not any of you."

"I know, Ziva. He knows that too. I think it was just hard for him, watching McGee move up and everyone move on and he just kind of sat there, unable to do anything."

"I owe him five years of his life back," Ziva shrugged and rolled her eyes elaborately. "I owe him _so_ much more than that."

Abby turned to Ziva. "You gave him those five years, Ziva. Without you, he wouldn't have a career at all. He probably would have dissolved into nothing if he didn't have this job—Gibbs, Ducky, McGee—we all held him together but you were his glue. We did the job just fine, and eventually, he got back on his feet."

"But?"

"But he was never the same," she said again. "But now that you're back…"

"What?" Ziva's brow was furrowed, concerned that coming back may have been the wrong choice.

"I'm not sure if he knows where to go from here."

Ziva sunk back into the bench. "Well that makes two of us," she laughed wryly.

Abby touched her arm. "Maybe you should tell him that. Maybe you could figure it out together."

"Together?"

Abby smiled a little and looked out at the view before them. "Everyone needs someone, Ziva," she took her hand and squeezed it gently. "I think he always needed you."

* * *

Ziva went home that day contemplating all the different things Abby had said, that Tony had said.

_We held him together, but you were his glue. Everyone needs someone, Ziva. I think he always needed you._

Ziva sighed from her place on her window seat, soft, sweet guitar strums humming in the background, caressing her busy mind. She reached down to where her phone sat.

She fingered the numbers for a long moment before finally dialing.

"DiNozzo," he answered.

"Hey, Tony," she said.

"Hey," he grinned and sat up from where he was lounging on his couch in his apartment. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to say hi. Just… Just wanted to talk," she said. "If you're busy, I can--"

"No, this is great. This is a good time," he assured her. I never minded talking to you. "So how are you?"

"I'm… I think I'll be good."

"Will be?"

"Yes… Will be… And you?"

"I think I'll be good too," he said. _Now that you're here._

Ten minutes from one another, the pair smiled softly in their dimly lit apartments. In his hand, he fingered her photo. And in hers, she fingered her journal, full of his letters. "You remember when we met?" she suddenly asked.

"It was kinda hard to forget. Most women don't start every conversation with 'Having phone sex?'" he laughed.

"No," she chuckled. "They don't."

"But you were never 'most women'."

"I guess not," she said.

"You were always one for surprises though," he said, grinning at the memory, how she walked in so mysteriously, how she would pull her scarf from her head, releasing those long, beautiful curls, so natural and wild.

"As were you," she said. "No dossier could ever explain your addiction to movies or passion for James Bond."

"Good. I like to be a little elusive," he joked. Ziva laughed a little with him. "So what'd you do today?"

They talked for two more hours, chatting and laughing. It felt like a sunrise. It felt like coming home. Neither noticed the faded sun nor the shining moon. Tony never realized his movie ended, and Ziva never realized her music had finished. They just spoke, finding something new to say, and sometimes sitting for a moment in a happy silence.

And it was sweet.

And it was right.

* * *

**Nice, right? Things should be good from here, at least for a while. : ) Don't forget to review! I cherish your reviews, and I can honestly say that so many of them remind me to tie up this loose end or work out that plot or mention this or that and add a line about this or remember that and all of these things--you really do have power here, guys. While I write for myself, I love to do what I can to make you guys happy. Go you!**


	14. Of Hope

**A/N: Hey!**

**So today's chapter is nice and long, and all those of you who've been asking for Tony to see Ziva teach? You get it! It's one of my favorite chapters, complete with all of the teasing and flirtation we love.**

**Thanks again for the incredible reviews! I cannot believe you surpassed 300 in only the 13****th**** chapter. Truly, I am amazed, shocked, and falling on my knees honored. Thank you so, so much. Consider this chapter just a little slice of the thank-you you all deserve.**

**Autumn**

* * *

"_When you love someone so much and that person is away from you, sometimes it literally feels like you can't breathe, as if your body is aching for air. And then that person walks into the room, and all that ache inside of you, all that longing, dissolves and you feel yourself breathe again." — Diane Les Becquets _

* * *

Monday came too soon. Ziva spent Sunday reading vintage books she found at a thrift shop, ones with pretty covers that caught her eye—and surprised her, as she would never have done that years prior. Tony called her that night and they spent an hour talking about something Abby and McGee did or said—Ziva couldn't remember which, but she knew her stomach still ached from laughing so hard.

"I hate Mondays," Ziva murmured tiredly as students began to file into her classroom for the first class of the day. She smiled briefly though, remembering Tony say something similar to that the first day she worked on the team.

"What was that, Miss David?" a senior named Kelsey asked.

Ziva looked up at her and smiled. "Nothing. Have a seat and we'll get started."

"How was coffee?" another girl asked.

"Coffee?" Ziva repeated, confused.

"Coffee, you know, when you got that call during class a couple weeks ago and made plans to go for coffee and then blushed like, the whole time? How was it?"

Ziva cleared her throat. She stood and moved to the chalkboard and began to write. "Please turn to chapter seven in your textbooks. Ryan, can you read the first three paragraphs? We'll discuss it and--"

Ziva was interrupted by a cough in the back of the room. She turned to see Tony, leaning in the threshold, a charming smile upon his face. "I was wondering if I could sit in on class," he said.

Ziva gave him a small look that only he noticed. "Yes, of course. There's a seat in the back, Mr. DiNozzo, and an extra textbook in the basket under the desk," she said, treating him as any other seat.

For the rest of the class, she had Tony answer questions and read aloud like any other student, and sometimes, when she was sure the class was focused on their textbooks, they would exchange a look and she would turn away, smiling.

His eyes danced as he watched her, so engaged and passionate, making connections from the past to the present. History was a part of everyday life in her classroom, and not only in the black and white texts of the books. The students seemed to love her and genuinely enjoy the class, participating in every segment of the lesson, despite the common sigh shared when homework was assigned.

After class, several of the popular, bleach-blonde girls made their way up to him, chatting him up and flirting with hardly-hidden giggles. Ziva rolled her eyes and moved to where he sat. "Hey," he grinned at her over their heads.

"Hey," she replied, then looked to the girls with a more serious expression. "You have only five minutes to get to your next class, and I happen to know that each of you has a class on the other side of the building. I will personally call each of your teachers and instruct them to mark you tardy, and I know none of you need another poor mark on your records. Understand?"

The exchanged a look and nodded, moving out of the room quickly. "So, do you reserve the paperclips for the _really_ bad students then?" he teased.

"Yes," she elbowed him. "Students like you."

"Me?" he feigned shock. "I was an excellent student!"

She eyed him. "Today you were, at least in this class. How did you get away from Gibbs? You should've been in two hours ago."

"He's in some mandatory meeting with Vance and a bunch of other who-ha's from up there. Vance had to threaten him to get him to come—he's not allowed to get up from his seat for…" he checked his watch. "Another three hours. He tried to sneak out of the last one, but this time Vance is gonna be watching him like a hawk, so I guess he's stuck. And miserable."

"Ah," she said as she moved around the room, picking up some stray pencils and pieces of paper and even a couple of textbooks left behind by careless students. He followed her action, helping as if it were the natural thing to do. "You're a good teacher," he commented. "I wouldn't have pictured you doing this, not in a million years, especially when using weapons or brute force is frowned upon, but… You're good at it. You're good with them."

"Thanks," she said genuinely. "They're good kids. Well, most of them," she eyed him teasingly, a silly grin on her face and he laughed a little.

"Okay, I get your point. Maybe I wasn't the most _diligent_ of students, but I didn't have as interesting a teacher as you. Or as pretty."

Ziva turned, but Tony caught the sweet blush on her cheeks, and the way she clenched her fist momentarily, silently reprimanding herself for the action. He smiled to himself but kept quiet.

She set away the object she had gathered and looked at him. "This next class is my free period. Want to grab some coffee? I could give you the tour of the building."

"Sure."

She brought him to the teacher's lounge, telling him about the history of the school, about the architecture, and little other tid-bits of information as they walked through the grand marble hallways, occasionally peeking through a room or observing a class for a moment through a window. "Do not even try the decaf—someone spoils it every time," she warned him once they arrived in the lounge.

"Note taken," he said, pouring some regular coffee for her and offering it, which she took gratefully.

The door opened and a couple of other teachers walked in. "Ziva, who's this?" Margaret Chang asked her, approaching Tony with a sparkle in her eye.

"This is my friend Tony. We used to work together," Ziva explained, sharing a look with him over the overzealous teacher's head. "Tony, this is Margaret Chang. She teaches Political Science."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Chang," he said, offering his hand.

She took it. "It's Margaret. Now, where did you say you worked?" She tossed her silky hair over her shoulder and turned to him, looking up at him through long lashes, her ridiculous amounts of make-up glistening under the sunshine that spread through the window.

"NCIS," he said.

Her brow rose and she smiled flirtatiously. "Oh, you're a federal agent? That's so--"

Ziva moved in between Margaret and Tony, taking his arm almost possessively. "I was just taking Tony on a tour of the grounds. I think Gregory Caine was looking for you, Margaret. I'll see you later." Ziva led him out of the room quickly, their coffees in tow and sighs of relief at hand.

"What is with the females in this school?" he whispered with an amused smile when the door closed behind them, careful not to let the expansive halls echo his words.

"I have no explanation for that," Ziva shook her head, her own smile playing upon her lips.

"You think it's in the water?"

"What is?"

"Whatever it is that's making all the females fawn over me, of course."

"I do not drink the water—I bring water bottles."

"So are you implying you're fawning over me, so it _can't_ be the water, or it _is_ the water, but you're _still_ fawning over me? I don't really care, either answer is perfectly fine." Ziva slapped him playfully with a chuckle, and he joined her. "Fine, I'm off your case. So where are we going now?" he asked mischievously.

She looked up at him and her eyes danced. "You'll see."

"You like this, don't you? Taking me to unknown places?" he grinned.

"Ha!" she laughed as she led him up the stairs and through another hallway. When they reached a pair of double doors, she paused awkwardly, realizing she had continued to hold onto his arm through the entire building. "Sorry," she said, opening the door with a key she had stowed away in her pocket.

"It's fine," he said, looking around. _I miss your closeness._ "What is this room?"

"It's a miniature conservatory of sorts," she gestured to the large object in the middle of the room. "This is a telescope,"

"I did _not_ have this when I was in school," he said, looking around with wide eyes.

"You attended military boarding schools—astronomy was hardly their biggest priority. Besides, Allegro has an extensive budget. A number of its largest benefactors have children enrolled here, and they want them to have the best education possible. They believe a giant telescope will help them, and I don't complain," she explained, adjusting it. "Look."

Tony looked through, finding himself gazing at a large view of the moon. "Wow," he said, in awe.

"It's still in view early in the morning—it's a very different view from what we usually see—the shadows are different," she said as she took a turn looking through it. "We only get to see one side of the moon, as it doesn't rotate on an axis like earth does." Her long dark hair fell over her shoulder as she bent over, her slender neck lit by a large window.

"Mysterious as the dark side of the moon," he commented.

"Hm?" she looked up.

"_Mulan_," he explained.

"'Mulan'?" Ziva repeated.

Tony grinned. "Never mind. Remind me to show you the Disney classics sometime."

"You want to see the library?" she asked him.

"Sure," he said, allowing her to walk ahead of him. He shook his head with a smile.

"McGee's not mad at you for not staying to do paperwork or cold case files?"

"Nah. I think he's down with Abby."

"I see," she said, her eyes glittering. "They are good together. Like it is meant to be," she said, echoing her words from years ago.

"Well, know a person for years, I guess it just becomes inevitable. It had to happen someday." _Maybe like us._

"Why did they wait so long?"

"Eh," he shrugged. "Rule Twelve was McGee's excuse for a while. And for like, the first ten years, Abby was a bit of a commitment phobe."

"Sound like anyone you know?" Ziva teased, looking at him over her shoulder.

"Hey, I'm a changed man!" he defended, laughing.

"Shhh," Ziva said, as his enthusiasm was a little too loud. She bit her lip. "Have you been in any long-term relationships in the last five years?" Tony just looked at her silently for a moment. "Sorry, my wording—college did not seem to help with my blunt tendencies. If that was too personal--"

"Hey, it's not a problem. But to answer your question, nope. I dated a little the last couple years, but before that, I wasn't really in any shape to… No, not in a long time," he said. "Maybe I'm not a changed man."

Ziva looked at him, searching his face for a long moment. "Perhaps it is just that you have not had the opportunity to see."

"Perhaps," he agreed.

They had reached the library now, and Ziva opened the door. Quiet whispers filled the large room, students using their study hall to study or play chess, or just kill time. "Allegro has a wide collection of books in every genre—mostly non-fiction, however."

"Never did like non-fiction," Tony commented, touching some books. "Too factual. The world's not about information, it's about how you use it to make your life worth living."

"This is true," Ziva said, her heart growing swollen with a pride she had felt for him years ago. It was warm. She missed that feeling.

They made their way to the garden eventually, where a class on the other side of the large area was studying agriculture. "Didn't know 'agriculture' was a common subject for high schoolers to study," Tony said.

"Neither did I, but apparently there's a crucial wealth of information that every student should be equipped with," Ziva replied dryly. She eyed him for a moment.

"What are you up to, Ziva David?" he grinned.

"How would you like to come speak to some of my classes?"

"Why?"

"We're having career week soon and various people are coming in to speak about their jobs to the students in a mandatory lecture each day. _Federal agent_ might make a good addition."

"Me? I dunno, I've never been much of a public speaker…"

"No, but you have a flair for the dramatic and I'm sure it'd be fine. Plus, they are _high school students_. It's not a White House press conference. And… I think there's a lot you could share with them."

"You do?"

Ziva nodded. "You know a lot. You can probably relate to a lot of these kids too."

He smiled at her. "Maybe I will."

Ziva sighed now and looked at her watch. "I should go. I have another class in ten minutes."

"Hey, let me walk you back," he said.

She smiled up at him, and he smiled down at her. "Okay," she consented.

"Thanks for the tour," Tony said, motioning with his hand. "It's a beautiful campus," but he looked only at her.

"It is," she agreed. "It's just…"

"What?" he stopped, touching her arm.

"It is nothing," she insisted.

"Ziva," he looked at her seriously.

For a moment, they shared a gaze. She then looked down with a small smile. "You always could tell what was going on inside my head. I don't know how, but my 'Mossad ninja skills' always seemed to fail with you."

"And you could always tell with me—nothing ever got past you," he said. _Maybe that's why I always thought we belonged together…_ "So, what happened?"

Ziva sighed and they resumed walking. "Nothing. Not really. It's just…"

"What?"

"Sometimes my job is exhausting," she said. "Half these kids could have their parents do a background check on me—they'd know everything about me in an instant,"

"Maybe you should tell them first."

"Tell them what? That I was born and raised to be a killer? That I've taken fifty four lives in my lifetime of 35 years?"

"That you've learned from your mistakes. That you can have a second chance."

Ziva shook her head. "They deserve better."

"They deserve someone who cares."

"I was never the one with compassion."

"Yes, you were. You took care of Tali and Ari without anyone asking you to. You believed in Ari 'till the very end—you didn't give up hope. You cared about the victims and their families. You were shaken by death and it started to scare you. You cared about McGee and Abby and Ducky and Gibbs and even Palmer like they're family. And you believed in me when I didn't—saw beyond me, saw something better. You pushed me to be a better man and I am, because of you. All that takes compassion, compassion which you have, Ziva David. If you ask me, these kids couldn't have a better or more worthy person in their lives."

Ziva looked up at him, their eyes meeting for a long moment as they walked quietly. "I'll think about it."

"Good," he said. In a particularly bold move, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. For that moment a time, the world seemed to stop completely. His heart stopped beating. Her heart stopped pumping. Their minds stopped racing. It all disappeared as they took each other in.

A long moment later, Tony let her go, and they began walking in a continued silence, his arm still around her shoulder.

* * *

When Ziva reentered her classroom, she found herself feeling giddy, almost—heart beating quickly, a blush to the cheeks, glittery eyes. Part of her felt ridiculous… and part of her liked it. She still wasn't sure which side to choose when her students for her next class began filing in.

"You okay, Miss David?" Jane asked.

Ziva looked at her for a long moment. "I just might be."

* * *

**Wasn't that such a happy chapter? : ) Don't forget to review! **


	15. Of Star Crossed Lovers

**A/N: I gotta say, you guys are so amazing when it comes to reviews. I know I've got the best readers ever. ;)**

**Today's chapter is my absolute favorite by far. I think of sunshine when I read it. It's really sweet. I wrote it to the song "Brand New Day" by Joshua Radin—especially the second and third scenes. **

**I also thought the quote fit this chapter really well, and it expresses what both characters are thinking, as well as for other reasons.**

**And lastly, go head on over to dizzy – in – the – izzy's story, **_**Hello, Apathy**_**, and read her latest chapter—and leave a review! Let's get her to 100 reviews, okay? : )**

**Thanks!**

**Autumn**

* * *

_"Summer romances begin for all kinds of reasons, but when all is said and done, they have one thing in common. They're shooting stars, a spectacular moment of light in the heavens, fleeting glimpse of eternity, and in a flash they're gone... She had come back into his life like a sudden flame; blazing and streaming into his heart. Noah stayed up all night contemplating the certain agony he knew would be his if he were to lose her twice." –The Notebook_

* * *

The week went by happily. Ziva caught a quick dinner with McGee and Abby on Wednesday, and she spoke with Tony on the phone every evening, whether it was for two minutes or two hours.

Something was sweetening inside her, and she couldn't decipher it. The feeling was familiar. it spoke of cool breezes on sunny days. He made her smile, made her laugh in ways she had long forgotten how to. It was more than contentment—that, she _was_ sure of.

On his own, Tony was feeling similarly. There was an unspoken need to hear her voice every day, if not for only a few minutes. He had to be sure. He had to hear her, had to hear her laugh, her voice when she smiled. And slowly, he was beginning to realize that it wasn't only because he had to check to make sure she was okay. No, it was more than that.

And he hadn't felt that way in a long time.

That Friday, they planned for a movie night.

Tony arrived promptly at seven, their agreed meeting time. She met him at the door with a welcoming smile.

"Hey," he grinned. "_The Notebook_ okay? It's supposed to be some major chick-flick. I've never seen it, and to tell you the truth, it sounds kinda cheesy, but I like to watch a movie before deciding what I think. Plus, I figure that if it ends up sucking, three hours won't be wasted 'cause at least we get to hang out and make fun of it. So I dunno. If not, I've also got _Black Hawk Down_, and that'll keep you up for sure, but--"

Ziva smiled, rolling her eyes at him. "Sure, Tony that's fine," she said, closing the door behind him. "How was work?"

"Eh," he shrugged. "Slow day."

"Fridays are always slow," she agreed. "I have the chips and dip in the kitchen—would you like to help me bring them out?"

Tony nodded and followed her into the respective room. "Hey, so I think Abby and Ducky are conspiring to throw a sort of reunion dinner together soon."

"Like… like a party? For me?" she began to shrink back.

"Nah, the attention wouldn't be on you, don't worry," he assured her hurriedly. "It'd be more of a 'we're-all-finally-in-the-same-town-together-and-it's-great' party."

"Quite the title," she laughed.

"Needs a little work, I guess," he admitted lightheartedly. "But what do you think? I mean, it'll just be us—Abby, Tim, Gibbs, Ducky, Palmer, you and me—it'll be casual and everyone will bring something to share for dinner and it'll just be, I dunno, kind of like how it used to be."

"How it used to be," Ziva repeated softly. "That was a long time ago."

"Hey," he said, stopping and turning to her. "It's never too late. We can still pick up where we left off."

"We can?" she asked quietly, skeptically.

"Okay, maybe a couple miles East of where we left off. But you're still a stubborn, witty, dangerous, beautiful woman and I'm still a charming, brilliant, movie-obsessed, handsome man…" she held her breath. Would he end there? "And Abby is still a crazy, squealing paradox and McGee's still--"

"Alright, Tony. I understand. We can try, yes?"

"It couldn't hurt," he said, looking down at her for a silent, sweet moment. "Now, about this movie." For the next ten minutes, he explained the concept, the actors, the era, the production, and every other tid-bit of information he could scrounge up without ever watching the movie itself to an amused Ziva.

She began to laugh when he finally understood her facial expression. "Just put it in," she said, recovering from her chuckles, which he joined her in as he did as told.

They found comfortable places in her couch—not too close, but close enough. They movie was calming and the low lights relaxing. The pair fell asleep near the end, Tony lounged out into the corner and Ziva beside him. She was quiet as she leaned into him.

Ziva had always been courageous, taking risks at every turn of her life, but never when it came to love, because of love? It was risky. Tony had figured that out about her long ago. When she sunk into his arms so thoughtlessly, he knew she had never been so brave.

As the movie ended, Ziva opened her eyes briefly. "You think we were ever like them? Just two star-crossed lovers who never got a second chance?" she asked him softly.

Tony heard every word she said, and he smiled to himself, knowing that she really had no idea she was even speaking, and that in the morning, she would not remember this moment. He brushed her hair out of her face, taking in the rare moment of vulnerability. "I think so, Ziva," he whispered. "I think so. Just remember," his voice was a quiet lullaby. "They got their happy ending too."

* * *

She awoke the next morning with the autumn sunshine upon her face. She had never been more comfortable, never felt so safe. She had never felt so beautiful. It was then that she realized he had wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and she had laid her head upon his chest. His breathing was slow and steady in the early morning light, the world quiet, still, lovely. Ziva looked up at him, being careful not to move, and she smiled to herself. For just a second, she thought about how years prior, she would never have dared to continue this any longer. But now, he was here, and perhaps…

She sighed contentedly and nestled back into his dear embrace, closed her eyes, and found that she fell back to sleep easily.

And she knew, as she wandered between the dream world and reality, that it would all be okay.

* * *

Hours later, the couple awoke softly. Tony awoke first, finding her in his arms, her head resting upon him so gently. He smiled a little, still sleepy, and kissed the top of her head. He realized then that she was awake, as she then looked up at him, just a little, and smiled at him.

"Morning, sunshine," he said quietly. He knew the nickname, paired with the kind kiss atop her head and their unusual, though innocent position, was a risky step to take, but the actions that occur in the moments when one awakes are not full of clarity, but are rather the minutes when one is most honest, most beautiful, most truthful. He figured it was worth the risk.

"Morning," Ziva said quietly, her fingers absentmindedly stroking his shoulder.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Perfectly," she murmured.

He grinned a little inwardly. She had softened over the years. "Me too," he whispered.

They lay there quietly for several minutes, not noticing nor caring that Tony was uncomfortable in his jeans and Ziva in her work clothes. The moment was worth the discomfort, for it was the most peaceful either had felt in _oh-so-long_.

Ziva sighed as reality dawned upon her, the sunshine finally passing for the last time out of the frame of her window. "We should get up."

"I don't want to," he replied quietly, and thought about pulling her tighter to himself. But no. He had already risked his life enough this morning.

He let her go reluctantly and she stood, frowning for a moment at the wrinkles in her dress pants and touching her hair, messed and tussled by sleep. _You're far more beautiful than you think, _he caught himself thinking. "I'll make us some coffee," she said quietly, and she looked at him for a long moment before moving to the kitchen.

He sighed and sat up properly, running a hand through his hair, a yawn passing as he grew more alert, the scent of coffee brewing bringing him to reality. He stood and walked over to the kitchen, watching her from the threshold.

Part of Tony could not believe it. It had been only three weeks since she stormed back into his life without warning, lighting up his world again, bringing back all the pieces of his heart and mind he swore she took with him when she left.

Three weeks, and he was beginning to think that maybe after all, they might have their chance again, hope glimmering in the distance.

* * *

Tony went home not much later, and Ziva was left to her thoughts, and the sweet bubbles overflowing from her heart. Unsure of what else to do with herself, Ziva found her journal, _his_ journal, and began to write the only thing she could think:

_Dear Tony,_

_This morning I woke up your arms. Innocently but sweetly, I fell asleep there, and I think I may have liked it too much._

_But thank you._

_Ziva_

* * *

**Was that not so sweet? This was the first time I used the word "couple" to describe them. And by the way, I don't ever mean to be prideful—I don't really write this. I just try and let the characters live. So. Yeah. Don't forget to review! Tell me what your favorite line or moment is, yes? : )**


	16. Of What Just Is

**A/N: You guys were amazing with your reviews, really. You outdid yourselves! *fawns***

**Today's chapter is shorter, and give us some insight into what's going on inside Gibbs, Ducky, Tony, and Ziva's minds, and a subtle hint at some more angst to come. Things should remain low-key for a few more chapters, however, with flashbacks to the past here and there. So hang with me here. : )**

**Thanks to everyone who went over to the amazing dizzy – in – the – izzy's story, **_**Hello, Apathy**_** and reviewed! I've kind of taken it upon myself to get her to 100 reviews, and she only has 6 to go, so if you haven't reviewed yet, you should! Also, check out some of her older stories while she's at it—they're awesome.**

**And, if you're interested, I also keep up a blog—check out wishihadwings (dot) wordpress (dot) com. I'm getting back to updating regularly, and it's kind of random and personal, but I figure it'd be fun to let you guys read it. Check it out, leave a comment, and try not to stalk me, because that's weird.**

**Autumn**

* * *

Gibbs was not at all shocked when Tony arrived in his basement that night, silent as he fingered a chisel. The older man walked down the stairs and sat down on a stool, didn't say a word as he poured a glass of bourbon for himself and for Tony.

"You forgive her yet?" Tony asked.

Gibbs shrugged. "Takes time. But I get why she did what she did," he took a sip. "You."

"I forgave her. Mostly, anyway. Takes time, like you said."

"No, DiNozzo, I said 'you.' You were the reason. I get that," Tony looked up at his boss. "But it's good to hear you're tryin' to forgive her too."

Tony looked back down with a smile. "Slept with her last night." Gibbs's eyes shot to Tony, surprised. Tony chuckled a little, feeling his piercing gaze. "Not like that. Just watched a movie at her place. She fell asleep, and so did I."

"And you didn't mind it," Gibbs said, picking up a piece of sandpaper and taking it to his newest boat.

"No, I don't think I did," he mused quietly.

"So what's the problem? Rule Twelve isn't an issue anymore."

"It's been five years, Gibbs. I don't even know what I'm thinking, feeling—she's been back three weeks." Gibbs was silent, knowing Tony would continue as he got his thoughts together. "We weren't supposed to get our second chance."

"Weren't you?" Gibbs asked. Tony looked at him, confused. "She came back from Israel after Vance split you up. You found her in Somalia. She came back after five years. I don't know if I believe in fate, but I don't believe in coincidences."

"I loved her," Tony said in a low voice.

Gibbs stopped his task and picked up his glass and took a sip. "I know."

"You say it like it's simple."

"Mmm, love's not simple. Sometimes, it just…" he shrugged. "Sometimes it just is. Don't need fancy words, don't need a lawyer to define it. It just is." Gibbs returned to his work. "You still love her?"

Tony sighed. "I have no idea."

Gibbs was quiet for a few moments. "Take it slow."

"Take it slow," Tony repeated.

"Just slow enough," Gibbs said, moving his sandpaper like it was an elegant ballet. Just slow enough.

* * *

"David," Ziva answered her phone.

"Hello, Agent David."

Ziva sighed. "Nothing to report this week, sir."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes sir, I am."

"Alright then… Thank you for your cooperation." He hung up and Ziva rolled her eyes before setting the phone down on the counter, a little too hard.

Just then, the phone rang again. "I swear, I don't have anything to tell you!" she cried hastily.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Tony's concerned voice asked over the phone.

Ziva sighed. "Oh, it's just you."

"Oh, gee thanks."

"No, no, I've just… Nevermind. Hi," she said, a soft smile spreading on her lips now.

"Hi," he replied. "You sure you're okay?"

"Oh, telemarketers or something," she lied. "It's no problem."

"Okay…" he said skeptically. "So, how are you?"

Ziva walked over to her windowseat and curled up in its corner, surprisingly warm despite the cool of the window. "I'm good… You?"

"I'm good. I know I saw you today, but I just…" Suddenly, he felt awkward, as if he was fifteen again and not quite right. "I wanted to talk to you."

"I wanted to talk to you too," Ziva replied. _Flutter-flutter-flutter_. She slapped the back of her head. _What are you, thirteen?_

"What'd you think of the movie?"

"It was sweet. A bit girlish, but… the premise was sweet."

Tony smiled to himself. "Good, I'm glad."

"And you? How did it live up to the DiNozzo Standards?"

_You think we were ever like them? Just two star-crossed lovers who never got a second chance?_

"I think it was just fine."

* * *

A lovely tune from the 40's played quietly in the background as Ziva sat in Ducky's living room, waiting for him to bring out the tea tray. It was Monday, but she had found time to come visit him after school. He greeted her with a cheerful hug, and she felt like she had just come home.

"Now, my dear girl, how are you?" he said as he sat down beside her and handed her a tea cup.

Ziva looked distant for a moment, as if recalling a sweet memory, before she looked back at Ducky. "I think I am doing well."

"That is so good to hear. After there was no response from you for so long, we began to wonder…" he noticed the uncomfortable look on her face. "But that's all in the past now. You're here, and all is well," Ducky said brightly.

"And how are you?"

"I'm doing wonderfully. Retirement is treating me well—I still consult with Jethro and Mr. Palmer frequently on a number of cases, and I go golfing often now—a real pleasure, I assure you."

"It sounds lovely," Ziva replied. "I am sorry for not coming to see you sooner, though."

"Well, I hear you've been a bit busy catching up with a certain young man."

Ziva looked at him strangely. "Who?"

"Anthony of course."

"Did he say something?" she asked, her eyes wide, nervous.

"No, no worries. These are just my own personal observations."

Ziva breathed a sigh of relief. "Observations?" she eyed him.

"Anthony came to see me last week. We spoke briefly."

"About me?"

"You seem to be the only thing on his mind lately, or rather, for the past five years," Ducky confirmed.

"That is what people keep telling me," Ziva said, looking down for a moment.

"But, there is no need to dwell on the past. What matters now is that, well, you are here," he continued simply.

"I am glad to be back," Ziva admitted. "To be honest, it is kind of… surreal."

"I can see why it must feel so," Ducky commented, taking a sip of his tea.

"I go back and forth from feeling as if time must have stopped to feeling as if everything has changed," she exclaimed, exasperated. "I feel conflicted so often these days. It was much more simple when I was in college." Ducky looked at her for a moment. "What is it?"

"You should know that Anthony feels the same way."

"Torn?"

"That, yes," he said. "And a number of other things, I'm sure."

"Other things?"

"Yes. Now drink your tea, dear, before it gets cold. I want to hear all about your university experience."

* * *

**Don't forget to review!**


	17. Of Scars

**A/N: This chapter is a little more angsty than the last few chapters. I know, I know, but it has to be done. But things will get good again, I pinky promise. It's shorter too, but I might post again tonight, depending on the response.**

**Thanks to everyone who got dizzy – in – the – izzy to 100 reviews! She deserves every single one!**

**And also, thanks to everyone who visited my blog yesterday—it was great to see some familiar faces! You can also comment, even if you don't have a Wordpress account or blog. If you missed it, the address is wishihadwings (dot) wordpress (dot) com. Hope to see you there. : )**

**Who's excited for Ignition tonight? It should be a fantastic episode—I'm looking forward to seeing little Timmy take the lead, LOL.**

**Autumn**

* * *

_"The defects and faults of the mind are like wounds in the body. After all imaginable care has been taken to heal them up, still there will be a scar left behind." --Francois de la Roche Foucauld_

* * *

_Tony sat at his desk, typing at his computer. They had finished their latest case and he was now filling out the paperwork dutifully. Ziva sat across from him, having finished much earlier, but sitting pensively, tapping her folded fingers together anxiously._

"_Hey," he said. She looked at him. "What's on your mind?"_

_Ziva moved to a more relaxed position. "Nothing. I am fine."_

"_No you're not—you're thinking about something. What is it?"_

"_Nothing, Tony. Everything is fine."_

"_Really?" he asked skeptically._

"_Yes, really," she checked her watch and stood, packing up her things. "I have to go."_

"_Wait ten minutes and we'll go for drinks?" he suggested._

"_No, Tony, not tonight," she looked at him for a long moment, taking in his image. For a moment, he thought she almost looked sad, heartbroken, but she quickly resumed her perfect cover and smiled a little and began to walk away before turning to him once more. "I'll see you tomorrow."_

"_Alright, see you then," he called, pushing aside all thoughts of what he had just seen._

_Twenty feet away, Ziva stepped into the elevator and shut it off, having glared at the young agent who tried to enter before her so as to gain some privacy._

_She sunk to the floor and set her head in her hands. "How do I do this?"_

* * *

Wednesday afternoon, Ziva was in the midst of grading a large pile of papers at the school. All of the students had left, but she was stuck with grading midterms.

"I hate paperwork," she murmured to the empty room.

"You always were better in the field than you were the office." Ziva looked to the doorway to find Tony there. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and she smiled. He strolled into the classroom and set a large cup of coffee on her desk. "There's a little vanilla in it—thought it'd be a little better than the crap they offer here," he grinned, sitting atop a desk in front of hers.

She looked at him gratefully. "Thank you." Ziva sighed and took a sip.

"You wanna take a walk? Just a little break? You look like you could use it."

She nodded and they left to go walk the property, the sun gently setting. "I am convinced that there is nothing better in this world at this moment than this coffee," she said, looking at the cup after taking another long sip. Tony chuckled and she smiled at him. They walked down the middle of the large meadow behind the school, the world golden around them. He was quieter today, it seemed. "Something wrong?"

Tony thought for a moment before speaking. "It's the ah, five year anniversary of Willis' death."

Ziva looked down. "I know."

"I tried talking to Mrs. Willis the next day, but she wouldn't look at me. 'Sorry' wasn't enough… Not for either of us."

"Have you seen her since?"

He shook his head. "The funeral… But I stayed out of the crowd for that. It would've been wrong for his killer to be there."

"You were not his killer."

"But definition, I was."

"It may be true, yes, but…" Ziva sighed. "It doesn't seem right."

Tony was quiet for a minute before speaking again. "I go visit the Commander's grave though, every month or two. Bring flowers. But, uh, it's never enough."

"I know," she said. She took his arm and held it as they walked.

"It shouldn't have happened that way."

"I know."

He sighed and smiled at her briefly. "Sorry—you've been grading all day, I shouldn't have picked such a dull topic," he chuckled nervously.

Ziva shook her head. "It is fine. Honesty… Honesty is good."

"I agree."

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, letting the sunshine soak into their bones and into their hearts.

* * *

**I know. I had to. The angst is a part of me, and of this story. Just hang on! And I know it was short, but oh well. Don't forget to review and let me know what you think—I take every comment into account!**


	18. Of Justice and Mercy

**A/N: Hey guys, thanks for sticking so loyally with me through the last chapter. Today's chapter has a more comfortable mix of angst and un-angst, but it's also setting the framework for something. You'll have to see. Read it with "Let it Be Enough" by Switchfoot—I did, and even having not only written it but read it multiple times, I did get teary. So there you go. : )**

**Ignition was an awesome episode. *sniff* Little Timmy is growing up—Palmer too! I was aw-ing through the whole thing. And let me just say, I completely love that Ziva watched the movie Tony told her to watch. I've done that in some of my stories before, or something similar to it, so I was absolutely delighted to see them do that in the show—it's so sweet!**

**Alright, enjoy!**

* * *

_"I have always found that mercy bears richer fruit than strict justice." --Abraham Lincoln_

* * *

_Ziva walked into her apartment and locked the door. She closed her eyes for a minute, the pain in her stomach growing and growing with the knowledge of what she would have to do. She shook her head and looked around at the home she had made for herself in the year she had been back at NCIS. _

_Photos were framed on the walls and on tables, new knick-knacks and mementos sat on shelves. The photo with the team taken after the citizenship ceremony, the certificate she was given when she was sworn in as a Special Agent, the TV Tony had helped her pick out, a new signed copy of _Deep Six_, the quilt Abby had her bowling nuns make for her—it was all there. It was her new life._

_She had always found it funny how having her old apartment destroyed turned out to be such a blessing. That was a different time in her life. It had too many memories. She would think about how even if it hadn't been blown up, even replacing the carpet and the coffee table would not rid her mind of the image of blood-covered floors and shards of a glass table scattered about. _

_But now, looking around, she was starting to lose her vision, blurred by tears._

"_Ah!" she cried and took her fist to the door in frustration. She took a deep breath, shaking, and moved to her bedroom and began to pack. She methodically stowed away her clothing and possessions, clearing her room. She put away everything else in the cardboard boxes she brought in with her—she didn't have much to store, and for the first time in her life, it wasn't because she had little in her life. This time, everything she had in her apartment was because of all she had in her life._

_Ziva checked the time—it was eight o'clock already. The movers would be here soon to take away the furniture and other things that could be packed by the company and moved to her new apartment in Boston. The Secretary had been good about that._

_She was to pack up what she could, having left a spare with the Secretary earlier, leave her car here—the Secretary would take care of it and provide her with a driver to the airport, then a new car in Boston. She would disappear._

_Ziva sighed and picked up her suitcases from her bed, grabbed her bag, coat, and scarf and headed for the door. Her mind was so busy, her heart so full, her body so aching with a physical hurt. She looked around—the place was barren, accepting the furniture which would be gone within three hours. She wanted to tell someone, say something…_

_Ziva looked around quickly and found a piece of paper and pen and started to write._

"Tony, don't chase me. Please. I'm fine, just… Don't follow me. –Ziva"

_She thought about writing more, saying more, but what could she do? Tell him she loved him? Tell him about how she needed to be there? Tell him that she had waited for him for five years? Tell him the year he was with Jeanne was painful? Tell him that… tell him what?_

_There was nothing she could do. Not anymore._

_She left the paper on the kitchen counter. He would find her. He would come here tomorrow, when she was gone, miles away. He would find her. He always did._

_She set it down and moved back to the door, opening it and shutting it without another blurry glance, walking down the hall in a discreet black coat with her discreet black luggage._

_And she would be invisible, because that was how it needed to be._

* * *

That Friday, Tony drove to Mrs. Willis's home in Alexandria. He sat in the car for several minutes, unsure as he watched her still home from his place on the street.

Finally, he got out of the car and walked up the steps to her house. He stood there for a moment, hands on his hips as he contemplated leaving, contemplated, his words, contemplated all Ziva had said, all she had done, all he had done.

He gathered his courage and knocked on the heather green door. Mrs. Willis opened it shortly and stood there.

"Hi, Mrs. Willis," he greeted her, sticking his fidgeting hands in his black trench coat.

"Special Agent… DiNozzo was it?"

"Yes, um, hi," he said again, standing awkwardly. "I had something to tell you, something I thought you should know."

"Know?"

"Uh, yeah… Five years ago, your husband was shot by an NCIS agent."

"I read the report," Mrs. Willis said, pushing her hair out of her face. "Special Agent David. You told me about her the day after. You kept telling me 'sorry'," she remembered.

"Right, that's what the report said. But it's not true."

"What isn't?"

Tony looked at her, and his eyes met her grey, tired ones. "Agent David did not shoot the Commander. I did."

"What?" she stepped back a little in shock.

"I did, and it happened the way the report said, only it wasn't Agent David. It was me. He was dressed, speaking, acting like Michlein and he had a mask over his face and there was no way of knowing. I thought he was going to shoot your husband, but I didn't know he _was_ your husband," he explained hurriedly. Mrs. Willis merely stood there, her face blank. "I didn't know. For five years, I've been carrying this and I thought about coming to talk to you and… I didn't know you didn't know it was me until a few weeks ago."

She was quiet as she looked down, staring at her doormat. "Was it a paperwork error?"

"No, ma'am, it wasn't. My partner, Agent David… She took the blame. She said she did it and then she resigned."

"She lied?"

"To protect me. I had no part in it, I had no idea. I didn't know, and if I had, I wouldn't have let her. I don't deserve to keep this badge, I know that, and I am so… I'm so sorry, Mrs. Willis."

Her expression softened slightly. "Your partner must have cared about you very much," she said quietly.

"She does," Tony said.

Mrs. Willis was quiet for what seemed like eons, time slipping by as shadows across the desert.

Finally she spoke, her voice softened and eyes compassionate. "But you're wrong, Agent DiNozzo," she sighed, and she looked at him once more. "You say you don't deserve the badge, but you're wrong. I've had five years to think about this, and… I know you were only doing what you thought was right. It can't make my husband come back."

"I know."

"But… Eric would have appreciated your integrity. Your honesty. He trained his men to have that, and I married him because I love him for it. For his sense of duty to his country. A man who is willing to risk his career for the truth is one who _does_ deserve the badge."

"But your husband was innocent."

"And so are the thousands of lives you're saving by keeping that badge," she replied quietly.

"I should resign too."

"No," Mrs. Willis said, touching his arm. "Your partner did that for you. She already payed the price."

"But she shouldn't have. And why-why are you telling me this? Shouldn't you be angry or enraged or throw something at me?"

"Like I said, five years is a long time to think about things. I forgave Agent David a long time ago," the older woman wrapped Tony in her arms. Tony struggled to retain his composure and determined expression as she held him. "I can forgive you too," she whispered. "Thank you, Agent DiNozzo."

Tony nodded as she pulled away. He pulled out his card, handing it to her. "If you ever need anything, and I mean anything…" words failed him now, still in such incredible awe of her mercy.

"I'll call," she said with a smile. "Goodbye," Mrs. Willis said and closed the door.

Tony slowly turned around to see Ziva standing there on the sidewalk.

"Figured I'd find you here," she said.

Tony walked down the stairs and into her arms and they stood there for a long, long moment, the air so cool and frosty. A few tears slipped out, and she held him close.

* * *

That evening, Tony and Ziva stopped by a little deli to pick up some sandwiches. As they sat outside on the chairs, Ziva looked pensive. They had made a silent agreement not to discuss the Willis's much more

"What's on your mind?" Tony asked, taking a sip of his soda.

Ziva shrugged and looked at him. "Do you think I have changed much?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know… Since you met me—have I changed much?"

"Everyone changes, Ziva."

She sighed, just a little, her brows furrowed in thought. "I feel-I feel different. Different from what I felt at first. Sometimes I can hardly recognize myself… So, have I changed?"

Tony leaned back and searched her face. "Ten years does a lot to a person."

"It does," she agreed.

"You've changed some. You're more open. Talk more, see more. Feel more. So yeah, kinda," Ziva nodded as she listened. "But you know, we say people change, but they don't. You're made of what you're made of—can't change that. I still don't wanna be within a mile of you and a paperclip," Ziva smirked. "You still mess up American idioms and don't use a lot of conjunctions. You're still dangerous, exotic, mysterious."

She smiled, almost triumphantly. "Good."

"But you're more human, or at least, it's more obvious," Tony added. "Guess you always saw more than most people, and I dunno, maybe it made you hide, or maybe it was your training. Maybe both. But it's good that you trust now, at least some of us," suddenly he felt sheepish. "And besides, how could I know for sure? It's only been three weeks."

"Three weeks… Feels longer," she mused. _I could give you three minutes and you'd know everything about me._

"Time always was weird with you," Tony grinned

"Oh, thanks," she replied sarcastically.

"No, but I mean, I dunno. After the first few months you were on the team, felt like you'd been there for years. But before the team got separated, I don't know…" he let his voice trail off.

"What?"

Tony shifted in his chair. "I guess I always kinda wondered what would happen if we had more time. Seemed like it went by so fast after… After the whole thing with La Grenuille, and again, when you came back…"

"I know," she agreed quietly.

Neither knew if the other was discussing the directions their relationship could have gone, neither knew if the other hoped for it. Neither wanted to risk the question.

It seemed nothing had never been on their side, time slipping by without notice, evils coming between, secrets being held. For ten years, it had never been right.

And then again, perhaps things _were_ on their side. After all, she _had_ come back.

They agreed to leave shortly, and began to walk along the street, just casually, the sky darkening. After a minute, she looked at him. And she saw right through him. "You going to be okay?" she changed the topic now, speaking of the events earlier that day.

Tony shrugged, an odd look in his eye, like the one she had seen the moment the hood was lifted from her head all those years ago. "I just don't get how she could forgive me like that. Just let me go."

"Forgiveness is a choice, Tony. She chose to do it because she knew you were worthy of it, no matter what happened five years ago."

"Ducky told me that, said that about forgiveness. Said it's not a feeling."

"And what do you think?"

"I think… Maybe he's right…You think I'm worthy of that? Even though I killed an innocent man? You think I deserve that?" his voice wasn't sad nor light. It was wistful and curious and full of so many unexplainable things.

She touched his arm and they stopped. "You told her the truth. You did not have to, and anyone less worthy would have let her believe otherwise. But you couldn't. You didn't try to kill her husband—you were trying to protect him. Were he here, he would understand. Mrs. Willis knew that."

"That why you did it? That why you took the blame?" he asked in a low voice.

Ziva nodded with soft eyes. "You deserved another chance. I could give you that."

"And you did," he said, with a soft smile. "Guess I haven't thanked you for it yet, but I promise, I'm gonna live every day of my life thanking you for it, making it up to you?"

"You think you'll know me that long?" she asked lightly, teasingly.

He eyed her. "Just maybe."

"And how do you know I won't run?"

"Will you?"

Ziva cocked her head and looked at him, a hint of dream in her brown eyes, sparkling with the glittery lights of the drive. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised.

He smiled. "Good, because neither am I."

* * *

Tony went to sleep so sweetly that night. His rest was dreamless, and it was perfectly fine.

But at three in the morning, his phone rang. He tried to ignore it, but when the caller rang a second time, he leaned over to his nightstand and picked up his phone.

"DiNozzo."

"Tony," it was McGee, and the background was loud, so loud. He seemed out of breath. "There's been an attack."

* * *

**Cue epic soundtrack.**

**So I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I think I thought of the scene with Mrs. Willis while doing dishes—that happens a lot. When you imagine Tony's voice in most of this, imagine it slightly amazed, like he sees it, but just doesn't get it fully because he can't grasp it. He's spent his entire career serving justice, and now all of a sudden when it's his turn, he doesn't get it in the way he believes he deserves—it kinda baffles him.**

**So anyway, thanks! Don't forget to review! (And here's a hint—a lot of times someone will write something really lovely or have a fantastic thought or give a new point of view, so I'll add that in to the story. I've got awesome readers. :D)**


	19. Of the Dark

**A/N: Hey! Welcome to chapter 19 of And then, It's Called Grace.**

**So, after a year of writing without any help, editing, or outside opinions, I finally got someone to edit for me (we're not using the beta system—we're old fashioned. We still e-mail.) Despite the fact that we're in completely separate time zones, the ever-fabulous livingandthriving has graciously accepted the offer. She's been catching my typos for a very, very long time in this story, and I figured, hey, might as well make it official. So, for your ease of reading and all of our sanity, please welcome livingandthriving to the team! She doesn't write here, but she does have a Fiction Press account—check it out, okay?**

**Today's chapter gives us a peek into what things were like before Ziva left, and gives us more information on the attack. I know I gave a lot of you pulmonary issues (more than one reader told me this, so perhaps I should pass out aspirin with this story?) with that crazy cliffhanger, but today you get a little fluff as a reward.**

**Also, not only have you guys passed up 400 reviews at only 19 chapters, but the last chapter had 35 reviews—I've never gotten 35 reviews in any story ever before! I was completely amazed, and totally honored. Each of you receives a virtual hug today. : )**

**M'kay, I think that's about it for now… Yep. See you all tomorrow!**

**Autumn**

* * *

_"A simple child that lightly draws its breath and feels its life in every limb--what should it know of death?" William Wordsworth_

_It was the sweetest sunrise Tony had seen in a long time. The last time was the sunrise they witnessed coming home from Somalia aboard the C-130, getting off just as the sun peeked above the horizon._

_This was better._

_The team had finally finished a case, a long, grueling case. It brought back so many memories. It was far too parallel to their own lives, their own pasts. By the time it was finished, Tony and Ziva were exhausted. They stumbled on to the roof just before dawn wordlessly. Neither needed to ask, needed to explain. They just went up there, finding solace in their view of the city, the Capitol dome to the north, the Anacostia River to the south, the sun to the east._

_They sat up there on the roof, watching the sunrise over the city. They sat on the ledge quietly, still as Tony wrapped his arms around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. She was so tired—any other time, she would have never done such a thing._

_But tonight it was okay._

"_No matter what, it always comes back, every morning," Ziva said quietly._

"_It's faithful like that," Tony agreed. He looked down at her, her slightly curly hair frizzing just a little where she laid her head on him. "Promise me something, Ziva?"_

"_Sure."_

"_Don't leave again."_

_Ziva sat up and looked at him, taking his hand. "I promise, Tony. I will never leave you," she touched his cheek gently, holding back a soft yawn. "I am like that sun over there. I always come back in the morning."_

_He smiled at her and nodded, pulling her back into his arms._

_She would leave only months later. She would break her promise._

_And five years, seven months, and twenty-six days later, she would walk back into his life, like that faithful morning sun._

* * *

Tony drove to the Virginia Junior Naval Academy far too fast. When he arrived on scene, he found what could only be described as "mayhem". Parents, local police, students, and a myriad of other persons ran around him, screaming, shouting orders, crying. As he moved through the crowd, it felt as if he was going in slow motion, the red and blue lights flashing around, the sky still so dark.

He pulled his badge and flashed it to the LEO who stood by the yellow caution tape.

"Tony!" McGee called, jogging to meet him.

"McGee, what happened?"

"An hour and a half ago, a man walked into a teacher's office. He shut the door, and within five minutes, half of the school was in flames from the bomb he ignited."

"Was anyone injured?"

"Including the bomber, fourteen dead—the bomber, three teachers, one visiting lecturer and ten students. Seven are injured, two in critical condition."

"How were students involved?"

"It's a boarding school—all of the kids live here. Mostly Navy families," McGee explained, refraining from telling him about the other group of students who were merely sent to a Naval school due to their troublemaking—students like him.

Tony ran a hand through his hair as they approached the school. The fire had been extinguished only twenty minutes earlier and was declared safe to enter. The stench of smoke, burnt flesh, burnt everything filled the air.

"This an official Naval academy?"

"No, but the three teachers were all former Naval officers, and the lecturer was a Commander Howard Kang," McGee read from his notepad, the hallways illuminated by lights brought in for the responders. "Not to mention that seventy percent of the students have one or both parents in the Navy or Marines. Makes it NCIS jurisdiction, and the local LEOs don't have the resources, much less the desire to deal with it."

"When do you think the FBI will arrive?"

"Agent DiNozzo," Tobias Fornell's voice said behind him.

"Right on cue, Fornell. How long you been waiting for me to ask that?" Tony said, turning to him.

"We gonna start this here?"

Tony glanced up the stairs where it was clear the dorms were. Where most of the casualties were. "How bad is it?"

Fornell sighed. "Pretty bad," he admitted.

"Gibbs is waiting for us in the teacher's office," McGee said, pointing to the room they were approaching.

Most of the walls in this part were mere skeletons, or completely gone. Smoke and soot were all around, drops of water still falling from the ceiling, or what was left of it.

"Hey Gibbs," Tony said as they entered the room.

"DiNozzo. Start photographing. McGee, you collect evidence. I have Deere outside taking witness statements. Agent Cowell's arriving in ten with his team. We're gonna need help," Gibbs said, walking out of the room.

"What happened? How'd he get in?" Tony asked, pulling out his camera.

McGee shrugged. "Might've picked the lock on a back door. Maybe climbed through an open window. We'll know more when we get the security camera footage and inspect the rest of the building."

"Hey, guys," Palmer said somberly, walking in slowly. His assistant, Annie Shaw, was in tow, but was in a horrific awe.

"Hey, Jim," McGee greeted him. Over the past five years, Palmer's social and navigational skills had increased, resulting in a greater respect from the team, and the honor of being called by his first name on occasion. Any other day, he might have smiled to himself about today's occurrence, but he couldn't, not here. "There's, ah, one over there, by the desk. The teacher, Dr. Francis. And then there's another over there—the bomber. And then another twelve upstairs."

"I'd better call in Dr. Hampton," Palmer sighed, and indicated to Shaw to go do so.

Tony looked up at the empty ceiling. He could see straight through to the roof.

"It's gonna be a long day."

* * *

After fifteen hours, it was confirmed that there were no more bombs in the area, but no one was able to determine the identity of the bomber, the motivation, or whether this was a stand-alone event. The security cameras did little for the investigation, only proving that the bomber gained access through an unlocked door from the cafeteria.

With no immediate action clear, Gibbs let the team have an hour long break to clear their bruised minds and come back with fresh eyes.

Tony retreated to the USS Barry, the retired destroyer moored at the Naval yard. It was empty on this cloudy evening, except for the three sailors that kept watch over it. He nodded to them as he walked up the steep steps carefully, finding an isolatedarea high up on the ship, looking over the Anacostia River. He pulled out his phone and dialed Ziva's number.

"David," she answered.

"Five years and you still answer, expecting a case," he said lightly, despite the darkness that hung over his head.

"Hm," she smiled. "Force of habit… What's going on?"

"You heard about the attack on the Junior Naval Academy,"

"You were called out on that?"

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, three AM this morning. Been working since, but haven't really gotten anywhere. Fourteen dead. Ten of 'em are kids."

"That's terrible."

"Yeah…"

"You want me to come down?" she asked tentatively.

"Nah, you've got work to do, and they're still trying to figure out if this is a national security thing."

"Okay, well, let me know?"

"Sure," he replied with a small smile. "How was your day?"

"Fine, especially in comparison. There's a bug going around the school though—six of my model students called in sick."

"Well, wash your hands, don't share food with any other kids," he teased. "We don't need you getting sick either."

"Yes sir," she laughed.

"You at home?"

"Yeah, got back just a little while ago."

"How'd your kids do on their midterms?"

"Listen, Tony, we don't have to talk about schools, or kids right now. I can't imagine--"

"I couldn't either. Ten of 'em, Ziva. Bright kids, from what the teachers told me. Most applying to Annapolis or to other academies. A couple of freshmen who just turned fifteen. Ten."

"When do you think Gibbs will let you off?"

"No idea. Depends on whether this was a one-time thing, and who did it, who the target was, and why they did it, and if they were working with anyone else, none of which we have the answers to."

"Well, it is what the 'I' in NCIS stands for, and you guys are the best when it comes to finding the truth."

"Doesn't help."

"I know. I am sorry, Tony," she said. They were quiet for a moment.

"You remember that time in the warehouse when there was a bomb on this banister or beam or something and you climbed up and tried to disable it?"

"Yes, I do. You kept complaining," she chuckled at the memory.

"But I followed anyway."

"And you never said why."

"Of course I did!"

"No. You said, 'I don't frickin' know!'"

"Right. You have a photographic memory."

"I think I would have remembered it anyway. One usually recalls disabling a live bomb."

"Right."

"Why did you?"

"Hm?"

"Why did you follow me? You could have left, could have gotten Gibbs. Why didn't you? Why did you stay?" The question had rung in her mind for years since, and for some reason, the answer felt so incredibly important. She didn't understand why. She just knew it was.

"You were my partner. I'd follow you anywhere."

"Why didn't you?" Ziva asked quietly, speaking not about that day in the warehouse any longer.

"You didn't want to be chased, Ziva. I got your note. I knew. I knew you had your reasons, knew they had to be good."

"Last time you didn't follow me, before that, I ended up nearly dying."

"That was your choice too," he reminded her.

"But you did," she suddenly realized.

"What? No, I--"

Ziva sighed with a soft smile. "You did, though, Tony. You thought I was dead. You went to kill Saleem. You found me instead. You did follow me."

"I guess you're right."

"I remember what you said, too," Ziva said quietly.

"You do?"

"'Couldn't live without you, I guess.'" Ziva remembered it fondly, so sweetly.

"But you know, I couldn't," Tony said. "Not then. Not… now," he finished tentatively with a shrug that she could practically hear through his voice.

"But you did," she pointed out, her voice so very steady and calm, a skill she had mastered.

Tony thought for a moment. "Not really, Ziva. Not really."

Ziva nodded knowingly. "I know, me too."

* * *

**For those concerned with protocol, livingandthriving did point out that technically, Tony shouldn't be allowed to tell Ziva about the case. However, she also pointed out (something I didn't even think of) that sometimes he probably still forgets she's not on the team anymore (let's all just say "Aw!"). Plus, for the purposes of this story, he's ignoring that rule. So yeah. : )**

**Don't forget to review!**


	20. Of Inevitable Things

**A/N: I know this chapter is a day late, but livingandthriving and I wanted to make sure that it was just right. The first version was pretty ridiculous, but thanks to my fabulous editor, it's a lot better. **

**I think this quote really describes Ziva and her life, in the show and in this story. I think it describes almost everyone on the show, actually, and probably every one of us, at least at some point in our lives. It's one I've tried to put in the story multiple chapters, but I could never remember if I had already used it or not. So today, we finally get it.**

**Also, I'd like to apologize for the wonky formatting of a number of chapters, and for sticking with me anyway. FFN is pretty nuts too though, so it's not always me fault. ;)**

**Who's excited for Flesh and Blood? Me! Who's excited for Jetlag? ME! Who read the latest spoiler from Ausiello that actually sounds fabulous (for example: "They realize the spark is still there" and "The journey may have started again") I'm thrilled for this season, no matter what does and does not happen. Share your thoughts in your review!**

**Autumn **

* * *

"_The past is our definition. We may strive, with good reason, to escape it, or to escape what is bad in it, but we will escape it only by adding something better to it." --Wendell Berry_

* * *

Meanwhile, McGee and Abby ran separately to the elevator, evading other agents and personnel so they could have it for themselves. Several agents exchanged amused glances, while others muttered something about missing the infamous Rule Twelve.

The second both had entered, Abby shut off the elevator.

"SitRep."

"What?"

"SitRep, McGee! We'll start at the beginning."

"Ziva left."

"Why?"

"To protect Tony."

"Right."

"She came back."

"Why?"

"To teach."

"Right."

"Tony forgave her."

"Why?"

McGee's brow rose. "You really want me to answer that?" Abby tapped her toes in impatience, determined to continue her line of questioning. "Because he knew that what she did was ultimately for his good."

"Right."

"And since then, they've been talking every day, getting together several times a week, and I gotta admit…"

"He hasn't been this happy in five years," Abby finished with a soft smile, a glint of triumph in her eyes.

"I don't think he has," McGee agreed.

"He's on the phone with her right now. Twenty bucks says they're on the phone, talking."

"Probably, but I'm not gonna bet with you."

"And why not?"

"Because I know you're right."

Abby smiled victoriously. "So, what's the status, McGee?"

"As far as I can tell, they're still friends."

"You mean _just_ friends? That is _not_ acceptable, McGee!"

"Well what do you want me to do? We're in the middle of one of the most horrific cases of the year and you want me to do _what_?"

She eyed him and pursed her lips. "Nothing yet."

"Okay, then fine… Wait, are _you_ going to do something?"

"I'm not sure yet. I mean, everything's in place. It's like some fairytale but it looks like Sleeping Beauty's still asleep. I've told her everything about Tony and how he was so lost without her and how maybe they've got, like, this amazing second chance, and Tony, ha, well, he knows."

"He knows? He knows like-like…"

"Tony knows he's falling for her. I mean, come on, McGee, it's obvious! Haven't you seen the way he looks at her?"

"It's the same way he's always looked at her."

Abby took McGee's hand gently and stroked it with both of her thumbs. "Exactly." She thought for a long moment before looking at McGee decidedly. "So let's not do anything."

"Wait, two seconds ago you said you wanted to—"

"I did."

"Why the sudden change of mind?"

She smiled a little. "Took you ten years. But we got a head start—Ziva didn't."

"Not exactly solid logic…"

"And maybe, with the right amount of time… they'll figure it out. There's a difference between a little nudge and a push right of the cliff, right?"

"Right…" McGee eyed her.

Abby shrugged. "I guess I've pushed enough. Maybe it's up to them now, you know? It's only been a month."

"You sure? You're not just gonna change your mind in another two minutes?"

Abby thought for a moment before nodding, a sweet smile on her red lips. "Call it a gut feeling."

* * *

Tony shut the door with a large sigh as he leaned his hand up against the orange wall opposite, a file in his hand. He heard the silent footsteps of his boss to his right at the end of the hallway.

"This case really sucks, Boss. Just got done talking to the Dr. Francis' daughter again. She's only twenty-two, just moved out here from New York—no family, no one else around. Says he's got no enemies. Guess they're all each other had."

"Ziva would correct you for your butchering of the English language," Gibbs commented, clearly not here to discuss the case as they began to walk slowly down the hallways.

"Yeah, she'd probably relish it." Tony shook his head and fiddled with the file mindlessly. "Still kinda weird sometimes, you know, to talk about her like that and know she's around to correct my grammar or whatever…It was quieter without her around," he realized.

"One less person for you to irritate," Gibbs agreed honestly.

"Missed it though—she had the best reactions," he grinned. _I will kill you eighteen different ways with this paperclip._

"She didn't die, DiNozzo."

"I know," Tony said. "I wondered about that though—I'd Google her name sometimes, just to check. But then, uh, I don't know who would've written her obituary. She never had anyone. We were it…"

"Google?" Gibbs prompted. Five years had done nothing for his technology skills.

"I just looked for her. But she always was good at disappearing," Tony mused.

"_You_ found her," his boss reminded him.

"Got lucky."

Gibbs stopped and turned to his agent. "Cut the crap, DiNozzo, and get this through your head: she made a choice. She made it for you, and she didn't care about the consequences. She made the same choice you did for her—put it all on the line. She's back and you've got another choice to make—either you take it and make sure all this was worth it, or you let yourself feel guilty. It's over, it's gone, you can't touch it. Move on," he said. "That girl's been through enough hell in her life—don't add to it."

Tony nodded after a moment, Gibbs' eyes so warning and dangerous, the truth striking in his head. "On it, Boss," he promised quietly. He knew Gibbs was right.

He knew she was worth it.

They continued to walk silently for a few more minutes in the maze of walls before Gibbs spoke again. "Sarah Francis said he had no enemies?"

"None. He's clean. He couldn't have been the target—we checked everything we could think of. Ducky's working on the autopsy now—should be done soon."

"Okay. Any idea who could've been the target?"

"It's a high profile school, Boss. Half the Admirals, Captains, Majors, politicians, and CEOs in the country have a kid at that school."

"Grievances?"

"Nothing that says 'I'm-gonna-resort-to-a-suicide-bombing.'"

"The parents?"

"Well they _all_ have enemies, but the guy couldn't have known which kid he'd get—if that was it, he'd actually head up to the dorms."

"So, he knows the school. Went to Francis's office for a reason."

"He wasn't after casualties. Just wanted to make a point," Tony realized. "But he didn't know the school well enough to know that the new security cameras were installed last week."

"But they've been watching. They've cased the place a few dozen times—this musta taken time."

"You think there's more than one guy behind this?"

Gibbs's phone rang then. "Yeah, Gibbs."

"Jethro, I think I have something for you," Ducky said.

* * *

"Our perpetrator's fingers were far too burnt to get any prints from," Ducky said as Gibbs, Tony, and McGee looked on. "However, I can tell you this: he's of Middle Eastern descent—both parents. He has had no broken bones. However his hands, wrists, and ankles show signs of wear that indicate fighting has been a part of his lifestyle since he was a boy."

"All boys fight, Duck," Gibbs said.

"Yes, but all _normal_ boys break arms and legs. This young man here, about twenty-five, twenty-six, has been trained so as _not_ to injure himself any more than a broken nose, if necessary."

"What are you thinkin'?"

"I suggest you check INTERPOL for recent entrances into the United States. Abby can do a rough facial reconstruction."

"He was trained, Boss," McGee repeated.

"Great—by who?" Tony asked.

"McGee, you and Abby check INTERPOL and… everyone that matches this guy's description, then see who's had training for this."

"On it, Boss," McGee said, wincing just a little at the work ahead.

"What do you want me to do, Boss?"

"This guy was methodical—he wanted us to see him. This isn't the first time he's done this. Check similar accounts, see if you get something."

"On it," Tony said, nodding to Gibbs and leaving for the squadroom.

* * *

Tony sat at his desk for the next four hours, pouring through every case he could find that had to do with schools, bombs, whatever. Abby was still working through the shrapnel, determining what was and wasn't a part of the device, then what the signature would be.

He sighed, not having come up with anything conclusive. He reached for his phone.

"Hey, Abs."

"Hey Tony," a quiet, tired voice said over the phone.

"You got anything on the bomb, anything that sets this apart from other cases? Gibbs has me goin' through files for like the last ten years, but there's not a lot to go on."

"Um, come down to my lab in like, half an hour? I'll be done with my examination then and I'll give you the short version, okay?"

"Sounds good," Tony replied and hung up. He ran a hand through his hair. This phone rang and he answered it, just grateful for the human contact. "DiNozzo."

"You sound terrible," an honest, Israeli accented voice said over the phone.

His tired expression switched easily into a smile. "Hey, Ziva. What's up?"

"Figured I'd give you a call—you'd need some sort of break right about now, if I remember correctly."

"You're smart. Brilliant, actually. After this case I'm gonna nominate you for the Nobel Prize or something, got it?"

"Got it," she grinned. "Making any progress?"

"Not much. Still no ID on our bomber, but 20's, Middle Eastern, tall, muscular—the description fits a lot of guys. Abby and McGee are goin' through INTERPOL but I dunno if they'll get anything, especially if this guy was underground. And he probably was. He was trained."

"Trained?" Tony could hear Ziva sitting up, growing more alert. He could practically hear her brows furrow.

"Why? That spark your memory or something?"

"Ah, no. It's uh, it's just unusual."

"Yeah, I know," he relaxed. "Most of these guys are from the streets, don't know much—it's usually all pretty rudimentary, but this guy…" Tony sighed. "He knew what he was doing."

"He has done it before," Ziva realized.

"That's what it looks like," he confirmed.

"You should not be telling me this."

"I know," Tony said. "And honestly, I don't really care."

Ziva smiled, and exhaled as she moved to a more comfortable topic. "Well, career day is next week, so if you're not busy next Friday, you think you might be able to come in and speak?"

"I dunno. This case…"

"I know," she said. "But if you've got nothing going on, maybe?"

He smiled. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Good."

"And so that means you'll come to the reunion dinner?"

"Oh, you think this is a trade?" she laughed.

"I think it's fair," he grinned.

From up above on the balcony, Gibbs observed his senior agent speak with who could only be Ziva with a little smile. They had seemed to make a point of always talking, every day, even if it could only last a couple of minutes. He remembered when he first met Shannon—they were like that too. He was in the Corps, then, but he'd call every chance he got, and write every chance he didn't. She would always do the same.

The frequent calls, the constant visits—Gibbs knew it was evidence that couldn't be placed with a yellow marker, but rather, it proved an involuntary need for one another, a deep and abiding love. Somehow, they'd preserved that through the five silent years, like he and Jenny had.

But they never got their second chance, not like Tony and Ziva. He thought about what he had told DiNozzo just days before: _I don't know if I believe in fate, but I don't believe in __coincidences._

As he watched above, Tony laughing at something Ziva said, laughing in a way he hadn't heard the man laugh in five years, Gibbs realized that maybe it really was just inevitable.

* * *

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	21. Of Evolution

**A/N: Hey! So I know there was a delay in posting, but we were working out some details for the next chapter. I'm catching up with myself, so tonight I shall be writing, writing writing!**

**The next chapter is my absolute FAVORITE. One word: orange juice.**

**That's all I'm gonna say about that. : )**

**I just wanted to figuratively bow before all of your feet for a moment and say thank you, thank you, thank you for all of the incredible reviews—I can't believe we hit 500 only this far! I can't believe one of the chapters hit 40! I'm totally amazed and so humbled. Thank you to each and every one of you. Thanks to those who've given amazing constructive criticism, suggested quotes, given support, written beautiful lines, and divulged theories. You guys are so, so awesome.**

**Autumn**

* * *

_"He who controls others may be powerful but he who has mastered himself is mightier still." Philosopher Lao Tzu_

* * *

When Tony hung up with Ziva, he returned to his task with renewed vigor. When he went to visit Abby, she told him that the signature could only be the use of blue and yellow wires of the same brand—a very rare and specialized kind of wire, as well as the colors of the Navy. When he went back to his original search and refined it, he realized that he had something.

"Boss! I've got something." Tony said after dialing Gibbs' number. He was down with Abby, McGee, and Deere. Gibbs, McGee, and Deere rushed upstairs to the squadroom where Tony stood waiting in front of the plasma.

"Whatdya got, DiNozzo?"

"This guy, he had to start small, but not here—it'd be too noticeable. So I started looking for cases of similar reports, only with no fatalities, the wires, but with the same sense of methodicalness—is that a word?"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs warned. They didn't have time for this.

"Over the past ten years, there's been fifteen similar attacks with these same components, but they get bolder every time, and they're becoming less spread out," Tony said, bringing up photos of the attacks onto the screen. "There's a single suspect for twelve out of all fifteen, but he doesn't fit our guy's description, and he's never been charged. His name is Abdi Bahrami—he's from Iran and well, pretty scary."

"Wouldn't wanna mess with him," McGee commented as they looked through the photos of the suspect.

"For fifteen years, this guy's been talkin' about how American schools are teaching children to hate Iran. I've got Abby doing some searches on him to see what else we can get."

"Abby has something," a small voice spoke from the corner. She was biting her lip and a very serious expression was on her face.

"What is it?" McGee probed.

"You're not gonna like this, Gibbs. You too, Tony. Actually, I don't think any of us will like it," she said as she moved to McGee's computer, typing and bringing something up on the screen. On it was a photo of a girl and a boy, young and small, and so recognizable. "On the left is Bahrami, and on the left is--"

"Ziva," Gibbs finished. He recognized her young face from the photo in Eli David' office—it was engrained in his mind.

"That's Ziva?" Tony asked, moving closer. "They look pretty chummy."

"Bahrami is ex-Mossad. Resigned twelve years ago. It explains the training her probably gave his minion."

"I thought you said he was Iranian?" Tony asked, his face so concerned.

"Records showed he moved to Israel at three years old—for all intents and purposes, he _was_ Israeli," she explained.

"Guess he figured out that not everyone thought so," McGee said. "Would explain the hatred toward American schools."

"Ziva knows him," Tony said, still surprised.

Abby nodded. "At least until twelve years ago."

"You think she's been in contact with him? Gibbs turned to Tony.

Tony shook his head. "I don't think so, but… It's been five years."

"Have her come in," Gibbs said.

* * *

"What is going on, Tony?" Ziva asked him when she reached the lobby, Tony there to get her through security as quickly as possible.

"I'm not totally sure," he admitted.

"I have class in the morning, Tony. In exactly," she checked her watch. "Five hours. And I would still like to get some sleep, if that's possible," she said with a small smile.

"Hopefully, this won't take long," he said as they entered the elevator.

They entered the bullpen quickly to find the entire team and the Director waiting. "Oh good, a party," she commented dryly in a way she could only have picked up from Tony.

"Ziva," Gibbs said, motioning with his finger for her to join in front of the plasma. "You know this guy?"

_"Ziva," Gibbs said on the MTAC screen. He was in Los Angeles, hunting down a terrorist with the LA office with McGee. Meanwhile, she and Tony were spending half their time running down leads in DC, the other half all but fighting—she knew this because were they fighting, he would be on the ground, bleeding. But it had not changed the facts—that things were starting to fall._

_"Gibbs."_

_"McGee, put it up." A photo appeared on the screen. "You recognize him?" Tony looked at Ziva, because he did, and he knew she did too. The sinking feeling in his gut grew heavier. She paused for a long moment, trying to figure out what to say. "Ziva," he tried to get her attention, get her to answer._

_"Yes, I know him. His name is Michael Rivkin," she confirmed._

_"He says he's Mossad."_

_"Yes, he is with the Mossad," she replied coldly._

_"Anything else you can tell us about him, Officer David?" Macey asked._

_"No, I have not worked with him in some time."_

_"We will talk more about this later," Gibbs said._

_"Of course." Gibbs disconnected. She could feel Tony's gaze upon her. She could "You did not think I would identify him--that was not a question."_

_"Anything you want to tell me?" he asked, trying to give her another chance._

_"No," she said. "One word answer, I win." She left the room, left him alone, left for Israel, left for Somalia, and she almost never came back._

She reached the area and stared long and hard at the photo. "Yes. Abdi. We were friends as children, in Mossad." Her Israeli accent came back a little as she spoke of him.

"You know he left Mossad?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes—ten, maybe eleven years ago?"

"Twelve," Vance said.

"That long," she said wistfully. Then she came back. "We were closer as children—he was always getting into fights," Vance and Gibbs exchanged a look. "He moved out of Tel Aviv when we were thirteen, and I did not see him again until he joined Mossad. He was different then, but I could never figure out exactly how."

"Maybe it's because he turned into a suicide bomber," Vance said.

Ziva shook her head. "No, that was not like Abdi. He did not support violence, not like that. He wanted there to be peace; that is why he joined Mossad."

"Was it any harder for him, being Iranian?"

Ziva nodded slowly. "Sometimes. But he always identified himself as Israeli—I could see no difference."

"Was that why he got into fights?" McGee asked.

"Yes, it was. It was why I started fighting too," she admitted.

"I thought it was because of Shmuel Rubenstein," Tony said.

She smiled a little. "It was. But Shmuel was a jerk—he was nice to everyone except Abdi, and so I never thought he was worthy of my time. So I punched him." Tony grinned at her and they shared a sweet, short look. "But Abdi, he could not have done this."

"People change," McGee said.

"No, they do not. People do not change. If there is one thing I have learned from history is that people do not change, but evolve, though their cores stay the same. We cannot change who we are," she said, her last words cracking so quietly that only Tony noticed. He made a mental note to ask her about this later—she knew too much of this very subject. "Abdi would not merely lash out."

"Well all the evidence says he did," Tony said.

"Then something must have triggered it," Ziva insisted. "Something terrible, something that cause him to feel as if he had no other choice. You can learn a lot about a person by the person they were as a child, and Abdi… He would only fight if he felt he was being attacked."

"So maybe he felt like he was being attacked," Gibbs said. "Ziva, what kind of ops did he work in Mossad?"

Ziva looked to him. "Explosives."

"I'm sorry, Ziva," Gibbs said quietly, sincerely. No one dared move, no one dared breath. "Tony, you and Ziva run him down. McGee, Abs—find him."

"And me?" Deere asked.

"Coffee," Gibbs said simply.

The old team exchanged knowing looks—each remembered being a probie very clearly.

"Am I even…" Ziva began, looking to her old desk.

"You've got your clearance still," Vance assured her.

"Good," she said, relieved. She sat back down at her desk, and for a long moment as Gibbs and Vance walked away, both Tony and Ziva were impaled with memories. It was overwhelming, and she swallowed, trying to control her emotions. Her eyes flickered up, and she caught his own, and each carried a sweetly sad smile upon their lips as they simply remembered.

They refocused to their work, speaking across the room, sharing intel as they did their searches as if this routine still happened every day. It felt so natural to fall back into place, and Ziva wondered if time had stopped while she was gone, or if it had ever ended at all.

He looked up at her, and it was the first time things felt right as she sat at that desk. She was the one he was supposed to see when he looked up. And then she looked up. And she smiled to herself, somehow knowing his was the one face she wanted to see every day for the rest of her life. And maybe she needed to.

* * *

**Don't forget to review!**


	22. Of the Best Days

**A/N: Hey everyone. Today's chapter is my absolute favorite by far. I loved writing it, and just couldn't stop. It's twice as long as any other chapter because 1. We made it past 500 reviews! I'm so shocked, and so, so honored! 2. This is the calm before the storm, and that's all I'm gonna say about that. 3. We get a new **_**fantastic**_** episode on Tuesday, meeting Tony DiNozzo, Sr. So, we're celebrating. You guys deserve this, but feel free to show your appreciation in a review. ; )**

**A lot of you guys have been theorizing about where this story is going, and others are concerned about their relationship, so I'll say this: don't be too concerned. It'll all work out.**

**As usual, thank you to livingandthriving who's been so gracious and so brilliant! This story has become what it is because of her.**

**Enjoy!**

**Autumn**

* * *

"_We laughed and laughed, together and separately, out loud and silently, we were determined to ignore whatever needed to be ignored, to build a new world from nothing if nothing in our world could be salvaged, it was one of the best days of my life, a day during which I lived my life and didn't think about my life at all."— Jonathan Safran Foer_

* * *

"Gibbs!" Ziva called after her former boss who was walking down the balcony. Gibbs had ignored every rule, point of protocol, and law that would have prevented Ziva from being involved in the investigation, at least for today. After all, she had retained her clearance, and she was former Mossad—really, she was of great use to the investigation, Gibbs rationalized.

"We've got something," Tony said. "Well, kind of."

"Yeah?"

"Abdi has been almost completely silent for the last twelve years, except for the week before an attack," Ziva said.

"He releases a statement, video, or article a week before everyone. Turns out this guy's got some kind of a following—pretty powerful group responsible for dozens of attacks all over the world in the past twelve years," Tony continued

"When was the last release?"

"Last week," Tony confirmed.

Gibbs stared at the file Tony had handed to him. "Alright," he sighed. "You guys go home. It's been a long couple of days. No one else is in danger just yet. Get some sleep, see you tomorrow," he said, picking up his things and disappearing.

"Night guys," McGee said, heading the way of Abby's lab to say goodnight.

"See ya," Tony called, though his eyes were focused upon the woman in front of him. "Weird night," he said when they were alone again. "Total case of déjà vu," he laughed.

"I know," she agreed.

"So, tell me more about Abdi—the one that you knew," he said, leaning back on his desk. She followed his motion and sat beside him, closely. Comfortably.

"He was a sweet kid. Innocent."

"How'd you guys get to be friends? Didn't you say you were in a kind of, ah, dangerous social group?" He grinned a little, and she nudged him playfully with her arm.

"I do not know, honestly. I just… I wanted to defend him. Protect him—what the other kids would say, it was not fair. But… Eli taught me to take out the threat. He did not teach me to defend the innocent—I do not know where I learned it," she mused.

"I told you, Ziva. You're a good person—you've got compassion and all that good stuff. It's just kinda hidden sometimes," he said.

Ziva smiled at him. "Perhaps it is why I am more comfortable at NCIS than Mossad." She was quiet for a moment. "Well, I was."

"What changed?" he asked in a low voice, not looking at her.

She shook her head. "I am tired, Tony. I have class in two and a half hours." She motioned to the window where the sun would be above the horizon in a matter of minutes. He decided not to press the issue, but instead placed his arm around her shoulders. "Hm… You should not try to take advantage of me when I am tired," she said playfully, but in a very tired, sweet voice.

_You think we were ever like them? Just two star-crossed lovers who never got a second chance?_

"Of course not," he chuckled. "You could just call in sick. We could take the day off and lay around watching movies and eating waffles," he suggested. "Tell 'em it's a matter of national security."

"Waffles." She smiled skeptically at him.

"Hey, you've been up all night. You're in no shape to deal with rich, snooty kids all day."

"They are not snooty."

"Some of them are."

"Fine, some," she conceded. "But I do not know, I shouldn't…"

"You've been thinking about nothing other than terrorists and death and explosives and Abdi for the last three hours, Ziva. A break is well deserved. Plus, how many breaks have you taken since you left this place five years ago?" A strange expression crossed her face as she recalled it, this the very place she walked out of and never expected to return to. He was right, and she was exhausted—mentally and physically. "Tomorrow I have to return to this, but you don't. I'd rather spend the day with you and do absolutely nothing than do absolutely nothing on my own. Come on, let's play hooky."

She shook her head, no sign of recognition in her eyes. "Hooky?"

"Honestly, Ziva. Did college teach you _nothing_?"

Ziva smiled softly. "Perhaps you are right," she admitted. "About today, I mean. My English is quite improved."

"You know I am. And it's not. Except for the contractions—I applaud you for that," Tony grinned.

Ziva rolled her eyes, then motioned to him that she would go make the call. He smiled to himself as he packed up, having won a day with her.

Waffles did sound good. And he had a few movies to watch from Netflix which he never got to see in theaters, or never bothered to see when they were first released. Nothing too heavy of course, and certainly nothing to do with terrorists.

As they walked into the elevator, he spoke again. "Okay, I swear I won't mention this or anything to do with this after we walk out the doors of this building, but… Have you talked to Eli since you left Mossad?" He was careful not to call him her "father." He had never deserved that word, and Ziva hadn't used it since she resigned from the intelligence agency.

Ziva shook her head. "I have not had much contact with anyone at all. He tried to call me a few times that first year, then once or twice the next year, but I never answered. And Aunt Nettie passed away a couple of years ago, but I was in the middle of college and could not go see her," she explained in a very matter-of-fact tone, so familiar.

"You ever forgive him?"

She shrugged. "I have not thought about it."

"You should."

"Forgive him?"

"You should at least think about it." He didn't need to say more than that. He didn't need to explain it, qualify it, or rationalize it. His eyes said it all. They hadn't lost that penchant for silent communication.

"Perhaps I will think about it." _For you. _

"Good. But in the meantime, you mind if we stop by the store on the way? I know one that's open all night, and I'm out of eggs and pancake mix."

* * *

They arrived at the store shortly and walked in casually, Tony grabbing an empty cart in the barren building.

"Okay, so what'd you like for toppings? Syrup? Strawberries? Blueberries? Whipped cream? Just butter? And how about the flavor—you a plain kinda girl or chocolate chips or completely chocolate?"

"I have never actually had waffles," Ziva admitted as they walked down the aisles, Tony grabbing various items and placing them in the cart.

"You're not serious," he said, stopping the cart in shock. "You went through four years of college and thirty-five years of life without one Eggo?"

"Eggo?"

"Oh come on, you know—_leggo-my-Eggo!_"

An amused smile crossed Ziva's face. "No… I made most of my meals."

"Really?"

She nodded. "I lived in an apartment down the block from the university. I got more sleep, ate better, and kept in better shape than all of the other girls in my classes." _That's for sure_, he thoughtglancing at her still-slender figure.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it," she said, picking out a bottle of orange juice. "You're out," she explained simply.

He stared at her for a long, hard moment. _Beat-beat-beat_.

He couldn't speak.

It just was.

It was then that he knew.

When he finally regained his ability to speak, he picked out a large gallon of milk and smiled at her. "Well then, if you've never had waffles, we'd better make this the ultimate waffle-experience. Grab that carton of heavy whipping cream for me?"

She did. "For the whipped cream?"

"Homemade's the best," he said, as if it were an obvious fact of life.

They strolled the aisles, picking up all the ingredients for the perfect waffle-bar, and some assorted items to fill Tony's kitchen.

He reached for a pack of Top Ramen when he saw a small hand appear on his own. "Just getting some noodles."

"You have had too much of that. It's not good for you. Here," she said, picking out a box of pasta. "At least make the real stuff, add some vegetables or something, yes?"

"But it takes so much time, and when I come home from a long day at work, I--"

"What you do," she began, "is make a lot of it, then freeze it. That way you can just heat it up as if it were one of your disgusting frozen meals which could probably beat out any fast-food chain when it comes to calories, and it'd certainly beat out any of this ramen."

"I don't know…"

"I'll help. We can do that today."

He looked down at himself. "Do I look that bad? I mean I've been running every day--"

"You run?"

Tony smiled. "Yeah. Started after you left—it just kinda happened. Guess I hoped maybe one day I'd run into you."

"Literally?"

"I wouldn't have minded."

Ziva looked at him carefully. "Keep it up. It's worked wonders," she grinned, walking toward the end of the aisle.

He laughed and jogged to keep up with her quick pace.

* * *

"Eggs," Tony said, and Ziva handed him the correct amount. He cracked them into the bowl. "How are the smoothies coming?"

"They look great," Ziva said, pouring the liquid into two very tall glasses.

"I want a sip," he said, starting toward it, but she put a hand up, paired with a threatening look. "Fine, I'll wait," he smiled, returning to his work. _I waited ten years—what's anther day?_

"You visit _your_ father lately?" she asked from her place at the counter. She hadn't seen him since his appearance five years prior on an uncharacteristically sunny Tuesday in January.

"Ha," he said.

"Right," Ziva smiled.

"Nah, but we talk. Occasionally. At Christmas."

"You and Gibbs are one and the same," she commented.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Well at least Jackson wasn't an alcoholic when Gibbs was a kid," Tony replied.

"No… Sorry," she said.

"Don't worry about it," he assured her. "You done with those smoothies?"

"Yes. And the toast. And the scrambled eggs, and the fried eggs. We have a feast," she announced. "Those waffles finished yet?"

"Yep. You ready?" They placed all of the plates, bowls, and various accoutrements in the center of the dining room table, Ziva having picked some flowers from the yard and set them in a glass of water, a vase nowhere in sight. "Hey, it looks great, doesn't it?"

"It does," she agreed, and they sat down to have their meal. It was eight o'clock, and neither had eaten in hours.

Ziva cut a piece of waffle topped with strawberry and whipped cream and lifted the fork to her mouth, when she realized Tony was watching her. "What?" she looked at him suspiciously—she hadn't lost that look in the five years she'd been lost.

"I just wanna see your reaction."

"My reaction?" He nodded and she shook her head with a smile, but placed the bite in her mouth. After a long moment, she nodded. "So?"

"It's pretty good."

"Just 'pretty good'? Not even good, or really good? Just 'pretty good'? What, not enough sugar in the whipped cream? Is the waffle too soft, not crispy enough? I can make some more."

"Alright, Tony, I am sorry—the waffle is perfect. The whipped cream is delicious. I suppose I am just not one for breakfast foods," she explained.

He laughed. "Remember our first breakfast together?"

"No…"

"Well, I guess it wasn't even really breakfast—it was more like lunch. Your first case here, a burrito—you remember? You kept eating mine until I finally gave it to you."

"I never understood why you cared so much about that," she laughed.

"Invasion of privacy a decent excuse?"

"No, not when _you're_ notorious for being nosy_._"

"Oh, you think I'm nosy then?" he grinned.

"Yes, I do."

"And writing up dossiers before you even meet the person isn't creepy either?"

"It was my job."

"And I'm an investigator—getting in people's business is what I do," Tony replied.

"Fine," she said, but she smiled and took another bite of her breakfast. "Perhaps the second bite was better."

"It's always good to give things another chance."

"Yes, this is true," she agreed.

"'Cause you know, sometimes we don't get another chance, and sometimes we'll go for years and years without another opportunity. And sometimes, you do get another chance—and another, and another, and then maybe, you finally give it another try," he said, speaking a little slower as he looked into her eyes. Her brows furrowed, but her eyes wouldn't shut up. "The waffles, I mean."

Ziva gave him a small smile. "It would be disappointing to go the rest of my life without getting another chance. I'm lucky."

"Uh, right. You, you're lucky," he gave her another charming smile. "But so am I… 'Cause now I get to prove to you I'm right."

"Right about what?"

"That my waffles are amazing?"

"You never said that."

"Of course I did!" he retorted, leaning in toward her to make his point.

"No, you didn't," she replied, also leaning in.

"Anyone ever tell you your memory can be a real buzz kill?"

Ziva smiled and looked down, then pulled back and leaned into her chair. "You did, once."

"I guess I did," he said, remembering their bickering behind the glass of Interrogation, just six years ago.

He watched her finish her meal, but he was lost in his thoughts. _What's it gonna take, DiNozzo? Another life-or-death experience? Losing her again? Be a man._

"You are watching me," she said, not looking up though her hair covered her face.

"Does it make you nervous?" he teased.

"It puts me on edge. Some things are merely instinct."

"Oh, I know. I've been watching you for years." She looked up at him now. "Well, I did. It make you nervous then?"

"Nope."

"So what changed?"

Ziva set her hands on the table, arms folded casually. "Me."

"I thought you said people don't change."

"But they do evolve. And they learn."

"You… learned to be nervous when I watch you?"

"I learned that… that it is okay to be nervous. I suppose I would rather be nervous about you watching me than you not be around at all."

"You missed me," he teased, trying to lighten up the conversation to make her more comfortable.

"I did not," she insisted.

"Oh of course you did. Clearly that's why you came back," Tony flashed his charm smile before standing to retrieve the dirty dishes and bring them to the sink. She followed with the leftovers, wrapping them up and placing them inside his refrigerator. "And by the way? Best smoothie ever."

"I thought so too," she said, smiling up at him, almost adoringly, if Ziva was capable of that. After a moment, he decided she was. After all—people evolve.

* * *

The pair soon fell sleepy, not having actually slept in over twenty-four hours. They had moved to the floor in order to be closer to the snacks they had made, sitting side by side against the couch. But by the end credits of the black-and-white Tony had dug up, Ziva's head was resting sweetly upon his shoulder as they dozed off.

Hardly aware, Tony awoke just a little, or perhaps it was a dream as he remembered the time they had fallen asleep like this years before as the team searched through an entire house for a small piece of evidence, late into the night. He remembered the way Gibbs had woken them up abruptly, and the way they flew up like shrapnel.

He laughed softly to himself, and she stirred just a little, not moving from her position. "What?"

"I was just remembering something. You can go back to sleep."

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"I will not go back to sleep until you tell me what you were thinking about." It wasn't that she cared to know—she merely enjoyed bothering him, just a little. She knew he liked it.

"Remember we searched that whole house all night until we finally fell asleep? Looking for some sorta computer chip thing?"

Ziva smiled with closed eyes. "I think I dreamed about that once."

"Me too," he said.

"I have been dreaming memories for a long time," she said quietly.

"Me too."

"But they stopped when I came back to you."

_When I came back to you._ He liked the sound of that. Bravely, Tony took her hand and held it in his—she was sleepy enough to take the risk. "Me too."

Ziva opened her eyes and looked down at the floor where Tony had left his jacket, something sticking out of the pocket. She picked it up, finding it to be a photo of her, from the year she had first come back, the year he had saved her.

"What's this?" she said, touching the dull spot in the corner where the ink had faded, or been rubbed away.

Tony opened his eyes and looked to the object in her hand. "It's ah, a picture of you."

"What was it doing in your jacket?" Ziva spoke quietly.

"I needed to remember. Or, I thought I did. I, ah, couldn't get your face out of my mind."

"All five years?"

"You were there with me every second." His words did not drip with sugary syrup, did not have the overwhelming scent of caramel. They were honest. Genuine, as if it was a fact he had accepted to be tangible and true.

Ziva looked at Tony with soft eyes, oh-so-soft. She pursed her lips for a moment as she looked at him. He was so close, and she felt as if she might cry. "You kept this, all that time?"

"I had to." She looked back at the photo. She was laughing in it, and the sun behind her shone beautifully. "I never could remember what was so funny," he said.

Ziva smiled a little. "I do." He looked at her expectantly. "You said, 'Thanks for not poisoning my espresso.' I didn't know what you were talking about then, and it made me laugh—you sounded as if you were being obscure and bizarre as usual, and for some reason I just found it so funny."

"Did you ever figure out what I meant?"

"You were talking about the day we met," she said, her eyes soft. "You took _my_ espresso, just in case." She smiled at the memory.

Tony nodded. "That was the woman I remembered when you left the first time and everyone else thought you had betrayed all of us, and when they told me you were dead, and when we were in that cell in Somalia, and when you hugged Abby when we came back, and when you left, five years ago. Couldn't forget you, not like that." A tear slipped down her cheek and she slapped at it, but he stopped her with his own hand. "Hey, don't do that," Tony took his thumb and wiped gently at the tear, a butterfly's kiss upon her cheek. "Anyone ever tell you it's okay to cry?"

"Crying is a sign of weakness, and I have cried enough tears in my life. I have grown soft enough already," Ziva said, sitting up straighter, resuming a harder expression.

"Hey, don't close up on me," he said. She looked at him, brows close together in confusion. "You can't run from me," he smiled.

"You seem to make that impossible," she admitted.

"Well you were successful for five years," he pointed out.

Ziva shook her head. "Not really. There are some things running away cannot accomplish. Some things you cannot leave behind."

"But you did leave me behind. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know why you did it, I get it, I'm always gonna be grateful for that, but I didn't go with you, so how--"

"Memories," she said simply. "I could not stop memories from following me, and to be honest, you were a part of most of them."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, and do not let it go to your head," she grinned, sniffing. "Not all of them were good."

_"You killed him."_

_"If I hadn't, then you'd be having this conversation with him. But maybe that's the way you'd prefer it."_

_"Perhaps I would." Her words were a dare._

_"Okay, why don't you just get this out? Wanna take a punch, take a swing? Get it out of your system! Go ahead, do it!" he cried. She had been growing more and more distant for months. He couldn't take her calmness, her stony exterior anymore._

_"Be careful, Tony, because much like Michael, I only need one," she warned._

"But some of them were," she said. "Most of them. And those that were not… They do not matter."

"Oh?"

"Because we got through them," Ziva explained carefully.

"May have taken us ten years, but we got there."

"Ten years is such a long time, but it never felt so long." _With you_, she finished.

"Time kinda stood still when you left. Like someone just pressed 'play', and it all started again when you came back." Ziva nodded quietly. "We got to pick up where we left off. Most people don't get that. We're the lucky ones," he nudged her playfully and she nudged back.

"We are."

Suddenly, he was curious. "Five years is a long time—you ever with anyone special?"

Ziva smiled at him but shook her head. "Nothing that lasted. I was not looking for a relationship. I was not looking for companionship, even. I had a fish, for a while, but he died. I did have friends, but it was strange, since they were all much younger than I was, and I did not have a way to meet other people my age."

"What was his name?"

"I just said I never--"

"The fish," he assured her.

"Oh. I named him Tommy."

"Oh really? Like, ah, Agent Tommy? Of _Deep Six_?"

"I did not say that," she defended.

"You know, Ziva, I always could tell when you were lying, or hiding something. I've got this sixth sense and--"

Ziva nudged him again, much harder now with her elbow, but he laughed. "I did not name him after you. I named him after McGee's character, yes, but as he has always said, they are not based upon us. They were works of fiction, and I like McGee's fiction."

"Hey, he did admit it though, remember? When that guy from the coffee shop was killing off people like McGee did in the book? He said he based a few of the characters off of the team, meaning, you, me…"

"Yes, but I always imagined Agent Tommy much more handsome, with more swigger than you," Ziva replied with teasing eyes.

"The term is swagger."

"Whatever." Ziva suddenly looked excited after a moment.

"What?"

"Were you framed again, after I left? You had this inherent ability to--"

"Nope. Pretty sure you were just my good luck charm—haven't been framed since."

"Congratulations, Tony," Ziva said, handing him a cookie.

"Thank you, Ziva," he said, taking a small bow from his seat beside her.

_

* * *

_

Dear Tony,

_I was never the girl that the guys wanted. Yes, I was "dangerous" and "exotic" and "mysterious." I was apparently beautiful. Men told me these things time and time again, but they did not want me, not for who I actually was. I was an object, a prize to behold, just like I had been my entire life. Eli would show me off to his friends and boast about my skills, my talents, the number of missions I had accomplished… It was ridiculous. I was an asset._

_But then I came to NCIS, and suddenly, I was not a mere thing any longer. I was trusted not for my skills, but because I was just me. That was all, that was all I was. That was all I wanted to be. _

_And then you… You saw all of me. It never made sense to me why, why you could possibly want to. Not even I did. But you saw me. And then there were times when I thought you may have…_

_I've been writing these letters for five years. There have been days I wanted to burn this book, days I wanted to throw it out the window. What was the use, writing letters that would inevitably never be sent?_

_But then, I was the one who told you that nothing was inevitable._

_Ziva_

* * *

**Ah, orange juice. I didn't mean for him to realize it that way, but it just happened. It just was, like Gibbs said it would be.**

**Don't forget to review! Share with my your favorite line or moment. : )**


	23. Of Calamity

**A/N: Heyyyy.**

**So Flesh and Blood was absolutely fabulous—I adored every minute of it. Really really.**

**Today's chapter is well, um, wow. Yeah. The start of something. I won't give it away. Something major though, FYI. This is where we begin to connect the dots.**

**I also (finally) enabled anonymous reviews, so if you don't have an account here at FFN, you're now free to share your thoughts!**

**And also, thank you to livingandthriving who is like a pasta strainer--she gets out all of the water before we put the pasta back in to make some macaroni and cheese. She's fabulous!**

**Enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

_"Fate is not satisfied with inflicting one calamity." --Publilius Syrus_

* * *

Tony walked into work the next morning with a contented heart, despite the evil he knew he would face momentarily.

Abby sat at McGee's desk, discussing something in a very passionate manner—probably the latest advances in bio-technical-computed-engineering-electro-aliunuinumisis, or something akin to it.

Abby glanced at him as he walked on. "Well don't you look happy today," she commented.

"Hot date last night?"

Tony grinned as he set his things away. "Not exactly a date."

Abby and Tim exchanged a look. "Ah," she said.

"It wasn't like that. I just had Ziva over that's all."

"Are you sure?" McGee prodded.

"Yes I'm sure, _Probie_. When we left work in the morning, we went grocery shopping, picked up some stuff for the world's most incredible waffle bar, then ate food and watched movies all day. Nothing big, trust me, Abs."

"Right."

"Doesn't sound like the Tony we used to know," McGee said.

"I've grown up a lot in thirteen years, you know that," Tony replied as he sat down.

"I know," Abby said, smiling softly at him, a proud look even in McGee's eye.

"What?" He eyed them.

They exchanged another look, mischievous. "You spend every waking moment you aren't at work with Ziva," Abby pointed out.

"And you guys," he reminded them.

"Okay, great. But we don't count. Technically, we're co-workers. Family first, but still co-workers."

"So?"

"So, anyone you spend with outside of work who _isn't_ a co-worker must be pretty special."

"Ziva used to work with us, remember?"

"Yeah, but she doesn't anymore."

"Am I the only one who feels like we're going in circles here?"

"My point is," Abby said, "Is that, I don't know, maybe Ziva's pretty special to you."

"Ziva's special to all of us," Tony said.

"Oh my word, Tony, stop generalizing for just, like, a minute, okay? Ziva's special, yes. She's always been special—we've known that for ten years. But when everyone thought she was dead, you went to the ends of the earth for her. And you found her. And then when she disappeared, you were the one she wrote the note to, and you were the one who completely fell apart. You were the first one she ever spoke to in this building, for goodness sakes, Tony!" Abby went on.

"I'm sure she talked to security. So that's at least, like, five guys," Tony pointed out.

Abby looked to McGee, silently willing him to say something to Tony. McGee sighed and stood. "Look, we know you're--"

"You're scared of getting hurt, of hurting her, of not getting the timing right," Abby interrupted, standing by McGee now.

"But that doesn't mean you shouldn't take the chance," McGee finished.

"Ten years of coming and going and secrets and terrorists and crime solving and murders and Vance and Rivkin and Eli and Jeanne and lies and after all of that, here she is again," Abby said. She shook her head quietly. "And we don't believe in coincidences."

Tony smiled a little, looking down for just a moment. "Gibbs told me that."

"Gibbs is smart," Abby said. "Brilliant. Don't worry about the timing, Tony. If you do, you won't get another chance."

"You're lucky you even got this one," McGee agreed.

"I'm not gonna bring this up again, Tony, but you have to promise to think about I said. You know I'm right. There's someone out there for everyone, and for ten years, she's been the only one for you," Abby sighed, satisfied. "Alright, my work here is done." She walked away, the thud of her boots growing with each step.

Tony turned to McGee. "Wow…"

"She's right, you know," McGee said.

Tony smiled a little. _Yeah, she is._ "Gibbs in yet?"

"Yeah, meeting with Vance or something."

"He trying to talk him into retiring again?"

McGee shrugged. "Maybe. Could be about Abdi. Pretty weird that as soon as Ziva shows up here, Abdi does too. Can't believe she knows him—does she know _everyone_? Weird coincidence…"

"There's no such thing as coincidences," Tony said quietly, frozen.

"What?"

"There's no such thing as coincidences, McGee. No such thing," Tony said, his voice growing louder with each word, more urgent. He reached for his phone and dialed Ziva's cell quickly.

"Tony, what's going on?"

"Abdi, Ziva, schools, there's no such thing as coincidences," Tony said, eyes fiery as he listened to the phone ring for a moment. He saw McGee begin to grasp it after several seconds of confusion.

"David," Ziva answered.

Tony sighed a breath of relief as he stood, putting his gun in its holster and grabbing his keys. "Oh, thank--"

"Tony?"

"Ziva, are you okay?" he motioned to McGee to call Gibbs.

"I am fine, what are you talking about?" she asked, her voice concerned. "Is everything okay?"

"You in class?"

"Yeah, I am, first period."

"You're sure everything's fine?"

"Of course, Tony, why wouldn't it be?" Ziva looked around at her classroom. Everything seemed perfectly normal. "What's wrong?"

"Ziva, Abdi came to DC for a reason. He's been bombing schools and he grew up… Ziva, listen to me, has anything seemed weird today?" Tony started running for the stairs, bypassing the elevator—he didn't have time.

"Tony, what are you—oh no," she said. He heard a door open and shut.

"Ziva, what's going on?"

"Tony, someone is here," she said calmly, her professional voice reminding him briefly of another life.

"Hello, Agent DiNozzo."

"Abdi," Tony said as he ran toward the doors of the lobby.

"It is good to finally speak with you." His accent was noticeable, but his English was impeccable.

"Yeah, good to hear from you too," Tony said.

"My whole life, people have been trying to break me because of my heritage." Tony listened to Abdi speak as he ran down the sidewalk quickly, the parking lot in sight as he turned a corner. "Since I was a boy, I have been persecuted because of it, because I am not accepted for where I was born and who my parents were. For years I have been trying to correct this, trying to change things for those of us who wish things were different. As a child, Ziva was the one who protected me, because I could not protect myself. But that changed too, and now I have finally found her. It is time to make her pay," Abdi paused just as Tony was getting into his car. "You have exactly one hour. You know where I am. One hour."

"You interested in negotiating?"

"Hm. You could call it that."

"Don't hurt anyone. You don't need to do this, Abdi. This doesn't have to end like this."

"Of course it does," Abdi said. His voice was almost weary, resigned.

Tony started the car and began to drive. "I want to talk to Ziva. Let me talk to her."

He could hear Abdi's chuckle. "For now."

Abdi passed the phone to Ziva. "Tony."

"Ziva, are you okay? Is anyone hurt? How'd he get in?"

"I'm fine, everyone is fine. I don't know how he got in. Security--"

"Listen to me, Ziva, you've got to listen to me. Don't hang up, okay?"

"I won't," she promised, her voice still steady.

"You think he'll give me that hour?"

"He will. People do not change, Tony," she said simply.

"Ziva, I just really need to you to stay calm and keep those kids safe and please, just please, stay alive long enough for me to get there."

"I will," she said. Her eyes were alert as she watched Abdi carefully. She glanced to her students, many of whom were crying now, worrying and whispering. Abdi was heavily armed as he walked the aisles, a calm expression on his face. He was on a mission.

"Listen, if I don't get the chance to tell you this--"

"DiNozzo, shut up and get here. I'll be fine," Ziva's tone wasn't cold or harsh. She was reassuring him. "I was the best."

"That's what I like best about Mossad," Tony replied, using the same words he said to her on the day they met, on the day beneath the rain.

"Our training?" she smiled a little, but her eyes remained on Abdi.

"Modesty," he corrected. "I'll be there soon. Don't leave, okay?"

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised.

"That's enough," Abdi said, pulling the phone from her hand. "I will see you in an hour, but you may wish to hurry." The call was ended, the phone was turned off, and only silence followed.

Tony pressed the gas pedal.

* * *

**So just so you know, NCIS doesn't have a parking garage as depicted in the show (at least not one I could find), but there is a parking lot on the base, so how I described Tony walking to the car is fairly accurate (plus a few turns and what not, and it would take a lot longer to get there than I wrote, but whatever.) I can say that, just so you know, because I did tour the Washington Naval Yard. :)**

**Don't forget to review!**


	24. Of Payment

**A/N: Hey, it's Autumn.**

**I just wanted to thank everyone for all of the alerts, reviews (You topped 600 within a week of 500!) and favorites and all of the fabulous things you guys have done for me. Thank you for everything. : )**

**Today's chapter brings a lot of answers into view, but we'll see how it ends… or doesn't.**

**I've been planning on this quote for quite some time, so I'm excited to be able to use it—it accidentally fits very, very well.**

**Also, thank you to livingandthriving for being such an awesome editor! She's absolutely amazing!**

* * *

_"I didn't have anything against them, and they never did anything wrong to me, the way other people have all my life. Maybe they're just the ones who have to pay for it." --Perry Smith_

* * *

The school had been evacuated when Tony arrived on-scene. Parents, students, teachers, local LEOs, and other security personnel rushed around him, and he was having flashbacks to the scene at the junior Naval academy from only days before. He flashed his badge to a LEO, muttering some explanation which he couldn't remember as he slipped under the yellow tape. He ran down the hallways, briefly realizing that it was McGee who probably made the call to the school and local LEOs, or maybe it was Vance. It didn't matter.

He approached Ziva's door carefully. He was shocked that Abdi had allowed the rest of the school to leave, but right now the logic didn't matter.

Tony knocked tentatively, standing to the side of the door, gun drawn. "It's Agent DiNozzo!" he called.

The door opened slowly and he swung over to be met by a sobbing student that he recognized from a prior visit. _Help_, she mouthed to him, and he nodded.

"Agent DiNozzo. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Abdi greeted him, standing by Ziva's desk. She stood behind it, glancing from Tony to Abdi until her eyes finally met her former partner's, and he looked at her silently.

"Yeah, good to see you too. Listen, I've got an appointment at NCIS, so maybe you can join me and we'll grab a coffee and--"

"I am not in the mood for sarcasm," Abdi said, fingering his large, automatic firearm. "Your weapon will do you no good." He pulled back his jacket to reveal a bomb. Tony swallowed and looked to the rest of the room.

Students were huddled together, having closed any and all openings—windows, doors, air vents. Abdi was smart, careful, methodical. Just like Gibbs had suspected. The air was thin, tight, full of tension that had lasted a lifetime.

"Tell me about yourself, Abdi. What's going on?" Tony asked carefully.

Abdi exhaled and looked around for a moment. "I am here for payment."

"What payment?"

Abdi glanced to Ziva silently but meaningfully, then again at the students. "As a child, I was often teased and bullied for my nationality, though I was legally Israeli and raised so in every manner." Abdi began to pace the aisles again. "There was not a day I did not go home crying to my mother. I begged to move back to Iran, but my parents could not afford it. Ziva, however, defended me," he laughed a little, and it caused chills to run up and down Tony's back. He exchanged a look with Ziva, and for the first time, he got a good look at her. She was calm and resolute. Ziva was strong; she always had been, and today, she had thirty-one lives depending on her. "You were loyal to me every day until we reached high school."

"High school?" Ziva repeated quietly, her mind scrolling back to the clouded memories.

"The summer before the school year began," Abdi looked to Tony. "Ziva left. She went to a training camp, for Mossad. She was something of a legend at our school—everyone knew her name and whose daughter she was. A protégé, one could say. She would go to school each day, then go home and train with the best. Her father made sure of that. But that summer, she left entirely. When she returned, Ziva did not even speak to me. She left me alone to defend myself. I could not even tell you the terrible things those, those animals did to me!" Abdi's voice grew heated.

"Abdi," Ziva tried.

"No! Do not apologize. You cannot rationalize this. I was tormented. I was tortured! My life was made hell by your, your friends. Every day they would make me die a little bit more, and then they would leave after school and you would protect them, train with them. You put your life on the line for them. You forgot about me entirely! You were trained to do a job. _We_ were trained! But you did nothing! You stood by, you watched me! Remember, Ziva? Remember?" Abdi looked at Tony, growing more agitated every moment. "I joined Mossad too. _I_ defended the weak. I did my job, my duty, and you never did! I did everything you never had the guts to do. And I was the _best_."

"What changed?" Ziva asked him.

"Nothing, Ziva, nothing! The world did not change. Its back had always been turned on me, since the day I was born! I had to show them they were wrong! I had to show them that it was unfair, that I am the same as you."

"Those bombings, Abdi—did you…" her voice trailed off.

"I am responsible, yes. They are a message to the world, they are a warning. They need to know what will happen if this, this intolerance continues!"

"Not all of us bullied you," Ziva recalled. "There were only a handful, I know that. Only a few! Why should all of us be punished? Why should _they_ be punished?"

Abdi blinked several times, his eyes focusing in and out, his finger hovering above the trigger. Tony swallowed and kept his weapon steady on him. "What? No, it could not have been… it was everyone! Everyone except you!"

"No, it was not. You have to remember, Abdi. Remember!" Ziva glanced at Tony. It was clear to both of them that Abdi was losing his mind.

"No, no, no! They must pay, they must-must pay! They must pay!" he cried, pulling of his jacket, touching the trigger with his finger.

"You don't have to do this, Abdi!" Tony called to him, his firearm still raised. Abdi was so distracted he hadn't noticed, hadn't cared. "It's unfair, I know, but you don't have to do this. You have to be better than them. You can't make innocent children pay for something they never did. They're just kids."

"Of course they did! America, America teaches these things, and these children believe it and-and…"

"Don't do it, Abdi," Tony warned. "I _will_ shoot."

"If you shoot, they all die. There is no way you can get a headshot from there. Take another step and we all go up!"

"You don't need to do this," Tony cautioned. "I've got a dozen guys out there ready to take you down. You won't leave here alive."

Ziva's eyes looked from Abdi to Tony to her students. Jane stood in the huddle, tears streaming down her face. _Tony_, she pleaded with her eyes when he glanced at her.

"Of course I must! These people, they must know! This is a warning!" he glanced around, fighting with himself. Sweat trickled down his forehead and his pacing grew quicker.

"The Abdi I knew as a child would not do this. He was against this!" Ziva reminded him.

Abdi shook his head. "Say your goodbyes to Agent DiNozzo. If you will remember, I was always a man of my word," he said sadly.

Ziva moved to Tony, looking back at her students then to him once more. He seemed to be as conflicted as Abdi.

"Just shoot him," she said.

"No, we can get out of here. No one has to die. Let me talk him down."

"It's not going to work. He just wants to end. I know what it is like. He has nothing left. When I had nothing, all I wanted was to die too."

"But you didn't."

"Because you saved me."

"Ziva, you've gotta know something," Tony said quickly, keeping his eyes on Abdi who seemed to be in conflict with himself. He only had a couple of minutes before Abdi made his decision, but he knew that if Abdi fell the wrong way, hit the ground in a particular position, the bomb would go off. It was a suicide mission—he undoubtedly had a back-up system. He didn't want to fail. Tony knew he could only take the shot if there was nothing to lose.

"Can't you wait for a better time?"

Abdi was muttering to himself, agitated. Tony could practically see the waves of confliction run through his mind. He was ill, he wasn't stable, whether or not he was equipped with explosives.

"We might not get one. I just need you to know, I wanted you to be the one picking out my orange juice."

"Tony, what are you talking about?"

"Ziva, I love you. I've always loved you, from that first day and you know, I was stupid. I'm sorry I didn't take the five years of chances I got. I'm sorry I didn't chase you. I'm sorry I wasn't the man I should have been when you were gone. I'm sorry I almost didn't take that chance when I had it again. I'm sorry I was mad at you and I'm sorry I was almost too late to save you. I don't deserve you, I never deserved you. If we don't get another chance, I just need you to know that."

"Orange juice?" she asked, faltering before him.

"If we live through this, I'll tell you about it. I just need you to know, okay?"

Ziva nodded, her eyes so soft as she looked up at him. He glanced down at her for a brief moment, and for that split second, things had never changed. "I know."

"Your time is up," Abdi finally said.

"Who's gonna share your message, Abdi? Who's gonna live to tell your story?" Tony suddenly asked.

"What?"

"You kill all of us, and they'll never know, nothing will ever change."

"But this, they need this…"

"They need to have the chance to never do to each other what the other kids did to you. You can't take that from them, it's unfair."

"They stole my life!" He raised his hand that held the trigger, and a girl in the back screamed.

"Don't steal these kids'. They did nothing to you, did nothing wrong," Tony insisted.

"But they will," Abdi said decidedly, his voice so clearly desperate, painful and… sad. He lifted his hand to the trigger once more and placed a fairy's touch of pressure on it. A tear rolled down his cheek, and for a moment, he was a little child again, helpless. "I'm sorry."

* * *

**I am aware that some of the things Abdi did or did not do aren't logical, even for a suicide bomber—the idea is supposed to be that he's kind of, well, as I said, losing his mind. Things aren't supposed to track with him. So. Just keep that in mind.**

**Don't forget to review!**


	25. Of Guilt

**A/N: Hey! Thanks for all of the incredible reviews on the last chapter—I was absolutely blown away!**

**The orange juice line got amazing feedback—looks like it was the reader favorite. : ) A couple of people were wondering about it though, so I'll recap: go back to chapter 22 to the part where they go grocery shopping. We see Tony kind of stop and realize that, just like Gibbs said it would in a previous chapter, "It just was." In other words, that's when he realized he loved her. It just hit him, simple like that. He realized that she was the only one he ever wanted to see picking out his orange juice—meaning, he wanted her to always be with him, forever, even for the little things like that. He didn't explain its significance to Ziva yet though, see keep your eyes open for that.**

**Today we get more answers, and it's a bit uncomfortable. We have only a handful of chapters left, unfortunately, but it's all going to work out. : )**

**Thanks!**

**Autumn**

* * *

_"There is no witness so dreadful, no accuser so terrible as the conscience that dwells in the heart of every man."-- Polybius_

* * *

Ziva pulled the trigger of her weapon in an instant, Abdi was on the floor, the students screaming and sobbing. SWAT teams rushed in just then, swarming around the room quickly as students were pulled out.

Through the crowd, Tony and Ziva's eyes met in a still world, all else silent, just before they too were ushered out of the room.

* * *

Ziva sat in the back of the NCIS truck far down the road from the school. The command post had been set up there, far enough away from the building so that no lives would be in danger from any possible explosion, and then some, just in case there was a second bomb planted elsewhere to take out first responders.

Both Ducky and Gibbs had insisted on checking her on their arrival, tight embraces given by both. The students had already been taken in to the hospital, and she had no idea where Tony was. Ziva sat there silently, wrapped in a blanket Gibbs had fished out for her, a cup of coffee beside her. She couldn't drink it though. She couldn't even move, though subconsciously she knew someone would be coming to take her statement soon.

Gibbs and McGee were "discussing" jurisdiction, Ziva guessed.

As if on cue, Tony appeared at her side. "Hey," he said, sitting down beside her. She didn't speak, she didn't move. "You okay?"

Ziva finally looked at him. She was composed, her posture perfect as always. But there was a look in her eye Tony couldn't decipher. "He was my mission."

"What?"

"Call SecNav," Ziva said. She bit her lip, seeming to fall back into their world for a moment. "Thank you." She couldn't say more, not yet.

"Ziva, what's going on?"

"Just call him. Tell him what happened. Tell him I am here."

"You want him to come down here?"

Ziva nodded. "Immediately."

"Is everything alright?"

She looked at him strangely. "I hope so."

* * *

SecNav arrived on scene within the hour. The entire team was baffled as to why he would cancel his other plans and meetings, but they trusted Ziva despite her elusiveness about the situation. She merely sat in the back of the truck, silent. McGee took her statement—she would write up her formal one later—and then left to await the arrival of SecNav.

"Mr. Secretary," McGee greeted him at the command post where he was getting out of his car, motioning to his driver to go find a place to park the car.

"Agent McGee. Where's Agent David?"

"Ziva?" McGee blinked. "Follow me, Mr. Secretary."

McGee led the older man down the road to where the MCRT truck waited with Ziva inside, Gibbs, Tony, and the newly-arrived Director Vance in a circle surrounding her.

"Agent David," he greeted her. McGee and Gibbs exchanged a look, but Tony kept his eyes on her.

Ziva's eyes snapped to him, and she seemed to awaken from her stony state. "Mr. Secretary."

"Have they been briefed?" he asked her.

"I thought it would be best to wait for you," she explained.

SecNav sighed and looked to the group. "Go ahead."

"Abdi…" Ziva began tentatively. "Abdi was my mission."

"Your mission?" McGee repeated.

Ziva looked almost helplessly to the SecNav. "I am an agent."

"You're a what?" Gibbs asked.

"The reason Agent David left NCIS five years ago was not only to protect her partner, but to complete this mission," the Secretary explained simply. "That's why she was issued a firearm that she kept concealed in her classroom."

"Ziva?" Tony looked at her and she shook her head a little.

"It was our deal," she said.

"I had intel that Abdi was behind the other bombings. I knew he was after David--"

"What?" Ziva stood up, surprised.

"You didn't know?" Vance questioned her.

"I had no idea he was after _me_. This is why you placed me at Allegro? To _attract_ Abdi?"

"You did your job. You neutralized the threat."

"While endangering _my_ students, _my _kids! You put the lives every person at that school in danger! Do you even know _why_ Abdi was a threat?" SecNav looked at her expectantly. "He was bullied his entire life, and he blamed me for never helping him. He was mentally ill, I'm sure of it. I saw him in there, Tony saw him in there. He was confused. But he was looking for a way out."

"At least he was neutralized. No other lives have been endangered today, or will be because of him."

"Is that all this was to you? Is that all _I_ was to you? An _asset_? Did you even _think_ of how many people could have been killed? Children! Six hundred children could have died today, not to mention the staff, and Tony…" Ziva sighed, exasperated. "This is unbelievable," she laughed wryly. "You are just like Eli. I should've known. I should've seen this sooner. You know, for five years I let you screw with my life for Tony's sake, for the sake of the mission. I went to college, got my degree, moved back here, let my heart be just ripped open, all for the sake of the mission. And what good did it do? I told myself every day, every ten minutes that it was worth it, and… You know, I'm glad I did it. I'm glad Tony got to keep his job. But you used me, you used these kids, these innocent kids for your own agenda."

"Are you done, Agent David?"

She looked at him for a long moment, restraining herself from slapping him, punching him, bringing her knife to him, even only in warning. He was lucky her sidearm had been taken from her after firing it. "I had to keep this from the only people I could trust, the people I had to leave for five years. So yes. I'm done." Ziva dropped the blanket on the back of the truck and began to walk away, pushing past the Secretary.

Tony stood there for a moment, looking at his superior with disgust before following Ziva.

"Hey, wait up," he called to her, jogging to catch up. The sky was overcast and the air tingled with threats of raining.

She stopped at the top of a small hill that overlooked the scene below, a fence marking where Allegro's property began and ended. "I am sorry," she said, pacing. "I broke Gibbs number one rule: Don't screw over your partner. I'm sorry, I should have told you the truth from the beginning, but I did not think--"

"Hey, it's fine. I get it. You had orders." His voice was low, but understanding. "You may not like them, but you follow them. That's why they're called 'orders'."

"No, Tony, do not do that. Do not use my own words--"

"In your defense?"

"I do not deserve to be defended! I lied to you, to Gibbs, after everything that has happened!" she kicked the fence in frustration.

"You're right though."

"I was misguided. How could I not see? How could I not connect the, the spots?"

"Dots."

"Not with Ari, not with Eli, not with SecNav… Ah!" She kicked the fence again.

"It's not your fault, Ziva."

"Of course it is. If I had done more for Abdi in school, he would not be dead. If I had just believed Gibbs about Ari, and seen through Eli, and the Secretary…"

Tony grabbed her shoulders, stopping her. "This was _not_ your fault. None of it was. You were just a kid."

"But what about now? I could have--"

"You can't do this to yourself, Ziva. You're not to blame."

"But I am. There have been so many times I saw something and could have stopped it and--"

"This was not your fault," he said slowly, emphasizing each word as she looked up at him.

"And why not?" She shrank, just a fraction.

"There was nothing you could've done," Tony said. "Nothing you could've done. Understand?"

She sighed a little and shrugged. "Not yet," Ziva replied honestly.

Tony nodded. "You will. I'm gonna tell you this every day until you do, got it?"

"Why?"

"'Cause that's what you did for me. Makes sense, I guess."

"At least something does," she said.

* * *

The drive back to NCIS was a quiet one. Tony volunteered to take Ziva to headquarters for their official statements.

"So," he said as they pulled into the Naval Yard. "You, uh, still gotta do the same paperwork I do?"

Ziva smiled a little at his attempt to lighten the mood. "More than you do, actually. Abdi was my assignment, after all. And I discharged my weapon."

"Can I take some for you? Fill out some stuff, you know, generic stuff?" he offered. They parked and got out of the car, and they began to walk.

"I guess," she said. "I might have a couple of forms for you." She smiled gratefully at him over her shoulder as they walked.

"You still carry your badge and gun? I mean, other than at school?"

Ziva nodded. "Yes, though the sidearm not as often. Usually I keep it at home. But my badge? Yes." She opened her leather messenger bag and dug it out of a pocket, studying it for a moment. "It's been a long time since I wore it," she mused, then put it in its rightful place at her waist.

"Better," he grinned. Ziva's expression grew pensive. "What?"

They had stopped at the small park across from the _Barry_. "Orange juice."

Tony gazed at her for a long moment and she looked back up at him. "Not yet," he said quietly, and took a step forward when he was stopped by her hand.

"You really thought we were going to die? Is that why you… Is that why you said what you said?"

Tony stepped back, meeting her again. "I said what I said because I thought that maybe this was it. Maybe I lost all of my chances."

She hesitated. "So you meant it?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by McGee. "You guys comin' in?" he called across the street from their building.

"Yeah," Tony called back. He took her hand and squeezed it for a moment. "Later we'll head to a diner or somethin'? We can talk then?"

She nodded and gave him a half smile. "Whoever finishes their paperwork first pays? It's even now."

Tony eyed here. "You're on."

They walked into the building with a quick pace and opened the doors of the lobby. Before they reached security, they were approached by a younger agent.

"Agent David," he greeted her. He could have graduated from college yesterday with his babyish features and small stature.

"Yes?"

"I'm Agent Bronski. I have orders to escort you to the conference room."

Tony stepped forward. "Whose orders?"

"I'm not obliged to share that information--"

"Whose orders?" Tony asked, straightening his posture for a more intimidating affect.

Bronski shrunk a little. "Uh, ah, Director Vance's, sir."

"I'll escort her, Probie."

"I-I'm not a-"

Tony brushed past him, his hand at the small of Ziva's back, leading her a little. "Sure you are, Probie," he grinned as they walked away. He looked to her now. "Any idea what they want?"

Ziva shook her head. "After today…" she shrugged. "Could be anything."

* * *

**Don't forget to review!**


	26. Of Choices

**A/N: Hey. Sorry about the delay, but here's today's chapter. We get a flashback and some more explanations. And, of course, a big fat giant question.**

**Thank you to the **_**amazing**_** livingandthriving who's so patient and brilliant—she's been an incredible help, and this story wouldn't be the same without her. Thanks so much!**

**Now. Onto important things: who's excited for Jet Lag? I can't wait for the trailer tonight. I'm ecstatic—on the outside, I'm as cool and calm as Gibbs, but on the inside, I'm Abby overdosing on Caf-Pow. Some friends from the CBS forums suggested I try decaf so I can sit through the episode tonight and see the trailer without bouncing off the walls.**

**Oh, and it's finally raining here in Desert in the Middle of Nowhere, California. I'm loving it.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_"The farther backward you can look, the farther forward you will see." --Winston Churchill_

* * *

Ziva tapped her fingers absentmindedly as she sat at the long table in the conference room. It had been exactly thirty-two minutes since she walked into NCIS. She shifted and pulled out her badge, gazing at it.

She had left NCIS for one reason, and one reason only: to save Tony's career. But it had come with a price, as all sacrifices do. As all deals with the Secretary do. Ziva didn't mind doing it for him. She never regretted her decision, only the way it was brought about.

The door opened, and Director Vance and Gibbs walked in.

"Gibbs," she greeted him. "Director."

Vance smirked a little, her loyalty to Gibbs obvious even in the little gestures. "Agent David. It's been a while since we called you that."

"It's been a while since _anyone_ called me that."

"Excluding the Secretary," Vance finished.

"Of course."

Vance looked to Gibbs, nodding. "We need to take your formal statement," Gibbs said.

"As an agent or a witness?"

"Both," Vance said. "But I need you to go back to the beginning."

* * *

_Ziva shut the door to her apartment, setting her keys, badge, SIG, and coat in their proper places near the entryway. They had finally closed the Michlein case yesterday, and she was finally able to come home late that morning. It was nearing twelve, and a quick surge of caffeine from a cappuccino she __**(had) **__grabbed on her drive back was the only thing that kept her from falling asleep at the wheel. _

_A soft beeping came from what she knew to be her answering machine. She walked over and pressed "Play"._

"_This is Karen Walker from the Office of the Secretary of the Navy. Mr. Secretary would like you to call him immediately." The message finished with the contact number and other details. Ziva rubbed her temples, so tired. This case had been exhausting, and Tony was no doubt feeling the full guilt of killing the Commander, even if it was by accident._

_She sighed and dialed the number. The SecNav's assistant instructed her to come in within the hour, that it was practically a matter of life-and-death. Knowing the Secretary, that was a likely outcome._

_Ziva moaned softly to herself and grabbed her things again before heading out the door._

_She arrived at the Secretary's office quickly—traffic was lighter during normal work hours—and waited for no more than two minutes before she was called in._

"_Agent David," he greeted her, standing._

"_Mr. Secretary," she greeted him tentatively, taking his offered hand._

"_Please, sit down," he gestured to the chair before his desk. "Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water?"_

_Ziva shook her head. "No, I am fine. With all due respect, sir, what is this about?"_

_SecNav sat down and leaned back in his stately chair in his stately room in his stately building. "I learned about the incident that occurred yesterday with Agent DiNozzo and Commander Willis."_

"_Yes, it was very unfortunate."_

"_Have his reports been filed yet?"_

_Ziva's brow furrowed. "I am not sure…"_

"_Well, I guess it doesn't matter anyway. You see, I have a proposal for you, Agent David."_

"_A proposal?" she repeated, the soft throb in her gut growing._

"_What I am about to say does _not_ leave these walls. Am I clear?"_

_She eyed him, but nodded. "Of course, sir."_

_He stood and paced the room slowly, almost royally. "Are you aware that Agent DiNozzo could lose his job?"_

_Ziva's eyes shot to him. "Why?"_

"_Well, he killed a high ranking Navy commander—the very person he was supposed to protect."_

"_It was an accident."_

"_A sloppy one," he sighed. "His future is at stake. If he loses his job, he will not leave with pension, benefits, anything like that. Not so much as a recommendation or a gold star on his resume. NCIS is a small agency. It's been grasping at straws for years. After Ari infiltrated it five years ago, and after Agent Lee was discovered to be the mole--"_

"_Sir."_

"_The future of the agency is at stake. We can't have headlines like these."_

"_What are you suggesting?"_

"_We need to keep this quiet."_

"_Sir, are you suggesting a cover-up?"_

"_This is my offer, Agent David: there is an assignment that will require four years of full-time training, but it will allow you to disappear, start over."_

"_Me?"_

"_You will take the blame for Agent DiNozzo's mistake."_

"_Why?"_

"_If he leaves the agency now, he won't be able to get a job at the sheriff's station in Littleton, Nebraska. But if you leave, you can just disappear and take on this new assignment."_

"_And there won't be any headlines then?"_

_The Secretary sighed. "Agent DiNozzo's record is spotty at best. He got it from Gibbs, no doubt--"_

"_This was not Tony's fault."_

"_But one more mark like this, and it'll be over for him. He'll have nothing. You, however, are a new agent. New agents make mistakes."_

"_If you will remember, this is not the first time I have had a job like this."_

"_I know, Agent David. I know what you do… what you did. I know all about that. But very few others do."_

"_Oh, it is not on record that I am ex-Mossad?"_

"_Not all records are available to the common press. And don't forget—he did kill Mossad Officer Rivkin last year."_

"_What are you getting at, sir?"_

"_It'd be better for everyone if you took the blame. Agent DiNozzo needs you on this one." He walked around to where she sat. "You and Agent DiNozzo certainly have a long an interesting history."_

"_What do you mean?" she stood, meeting him._

"_You met under questionable circumstances—your half-brother had just murdered his partner. Then you killed your half-brother—yes, Agent David. I know about that," he said, seeing the shocked look on her face. "Three weeks later, you're on the same team. One year later, he's the team leader and he visited your house at least once a week."_

"_How do you know about that?"_

"_A year after that, his car is bombed and he nearly dies after failing an undercover assignment."_

"_It was not his fault."_

"_Then, with__in__ months, he blows his protection detail."_

"_We _both_ blew the detail. He was not solely to blame. Jenny would have--"_

"_And he was sent to be an agent afloat while you returned to Mossad. I believe that is where you and Officer Rivkin reunited. Ten months later, Agent DiNozzo kills your boyfriend and partner--"_

"Tony_ is my partner."_

"—_While you return to Mossad once more and are shortly captured by terrorists in Somalia. You nearly died."_

"_Tony found me," she said. "What is the purpose of all this? We have all seen what happens when someone gets entangled in cover-ups and agendas, Tony more than the rest."_

"_He's a good agent."_

"_He's the best," Ziva said with certainty._

"_Good man too."_

"_Yes," she admitted._

"_You're his partner. You would do anything for him, wouldn't you? Don't you want to protect him, Agent David?"_

* * *

"He manipulated me," Ziva said. "Into doing his dirty work."

"You were the best."

"Apparently not," Ziva sighed. "He told me he didn't know the identity of the man I was looking for, but that I should be looking for him at Allegro."

"It was 'cause he knew Abdi was looking for you."

"SecNav told me that he did in fact have intel on who was the source of the bombs," Vance said.

Ziva smiled wryly as she looked down at her hands, shaking her head. "He played me. And it was for nothing—I didn't catch Abdi."

"You saved Tony's job, maybe even his life," Gibbs said. He knew that without the steady presence of NCIS and the team in his life Tony would have wasted away. He wasn't ready for it back then.

"The only good thing that came from this," Ziva said.

"Was it worth it?" Gibbs asked.

Ziva sat for a long moment, then looked at him. "For Tony, it was."

"You saved hundreds of lives."

"I have been wondering my entire life if the loss of one life is worth the insured safety of hundreds… Abdi was a criminal. He had to be stopped, I know that. But things could have been differently, _should_ have been done differently. His entire plan was spotty, convoluted."

"Whose? SecNav's or Abdi's?" Vance asked.

"Both," Ziva replied. "Abdi—something was wrong with him. He wasn't right. He was agitated."

"He had a bomb strapped to his chest," Gibbs said.

"But he was trained by the same men who trained me. He should have been more calm. He should have been resolved, not second guessing at the last moment. Most suicide bombers are, in their last moments. They see it as a mission, a calling."

"Did Abdi?" Vance asked.

Ziva nodded. "He wanted justice for those who faced intolerance, as he had…"

"How was he supposed to get his message out if he was dead?"

"It was a hole in his plan. Like I said, he was losing his mind. I will not be surprised if Palmer finds evidence of a mental illness or drugs or-or something. You should expect that too." Ziva sighed. "SecNav called me at least once a week since I left for an update on the intel I had gathered. He's a very patient man—I had absolutely nothing. I would have hardly recognized Abdi had I known any better. I could not accomplish this mission, not like this."

"He used you, Ziva. He used Tony to get to you," Gibb said. "Practically blackmail."

"Records show that you left a month after the incident and your meeting with SecNav," Vance said, reading the file in his hands. Her file.

She nodded. "I was given instructions to wait. He was planning, I suppose. It gave him time to, I don't know, doctor the reports or something, classify them, do what he needed. He called me four weeks later with a plane ticket to Boston, arrangements for my things to be packed and shipped to me, and a full ride to Boston University. I learned after I arrived that he had successfully sped up my education—instead of six or more years to get my degree and teaching certificate, it would take me only four. I was only to cut ties with NCIS and anyone from DC."

"Why weren't you given an entirely new identity?" Vance asked.

Ziva shrugged. "Perhaps it was so Abdi could track me down more easily while not making it obvious."

"Did he ever contact you before today?" Gibbs asked.

"No, not at all. I broke off all communication with the outside world. No social networking, new cell phone, no contact with anyone from here." He sat for a moment, her eyes focused on her fingers. "He was looking for help. This was a cry for help; he was screaming for over fifteen years, and I didn't hear him."

"This wasn't your fault," Gibbs assured her.

"Then why does it feel like it is? He was right there when we were kids, and I-I let him die a little bit, every day. And then suddenly he's my _assignment_, and I can't even find him."

"SecNav kept vital intel from you."

"Why? Because of my questionable past? Was I, though supposedly 'the best', not trustworthy enough? Why?"

"Because he had his own agenda. Didn't care about you or what happened to you," Gibbs said regretfully.

"He should have. If I had had the intel, I could have stopped him sooner, maybe years ago."

"But it wasn't under our jurisdiction," Vance realized. "Not until the Navy was involved. That's why he put you out there—if you were still an agent…" he didn't finish his words.

"He should have told me," she said.

"And that's why you're not to blame," Gibbs said, leaning towards her with his understanding blue eyes. "You're not to blame."

She nodded a little and pushed back her hair, sitting up straighter with a deep breath. "So, what happens now?"

Vance looked at her for a moment. "There's an open position on Gibbs' team. Deere was transferred to the legal department. It's yours if you want it."

* * *

**What do you think she'll do? Leave me your thoughts—don't forget to review!**


	27. Of Living

**A/N: Hey guys. So we finally worked out this chapter, thanks to the amazing help of livingandthriving! Thanks!**

**Today we pick up (sort of) where the last chapter left off, and one of my favorite scenes is right here in the beginning. I think you'll like it. : )**

**The quote for this chapter is one of my favorites—it makes me think a lot about my own life. It seems really true.**

**Enjoy!**

**Autumn**

* * *

_"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves. We must die to one life before we can enter another." --Anatole France_

* * *

Later that night, Tony and Ziva walked down a busy street. The diner was at the other end, but they had to park further than they had hoped, leaving walking the only option. A cold wind blew through them, causing the tension to increase even more.

Tony looked at her. Her long hair blew sweetly over her shoulders, her eyes focused on the goal ahead, like she always had. She never looked to the ground for too long, like she never focused on the present for too long either. The present had always been too overwhelming.

As Tony contemplated the parallels, she looked over at him and smiled. _The present isn't always so bad_, she seemed to tell him.

He took a breath, her smile seeming to be an encouragement, a wordless, untouchable catalyst. "I think I'd watch the worst movie in the world with you."

She looked up at him again with twinkling eyes and a confused smile. "What?"

"Well, it'd be worth it."

"Oh would it?" she teased.

"Absolutely."

"And why do you think that, Agent DiNozzo?"

He looked down at her, and he found they had stopped. Neither had realized they had passed their original destination, or that they had turned onto a quiet and historic residential street. The streetlight above shone down through the red and gold leaves of the tall tree above them. His grin softened into a smile, and her smile into something else. Something that didn't have a name, or a word, not in any language. "I love you," he said again, honestly. He couldn't think of anything else to say. Nothing else felt right.

Ziva swallowed but didn't move. "That is the second time you have told me that today," she reminded him, though it felt it had been longer.

"Shoulda told you a long time ago," he said, taking a fraction of an inch's step closer to her.

"Why didn't you?"

"Never realized I had the chance 'till it was too late."

"It was almost too late today," Ziva pointed out.

"It wasn't a coincidence that we survived."

"And why do you say _that_, Agent DiNozzo?"

"Well…" He took another step closer. "I think maybe we've survived too many bombs and bullets and rogue agents and terrorists and directors and arms dealers for it to be a coincidence?"

"It could be that a lot of people just want us dead."

"I like to think there's a reason we're not," Tony replied, stepping even closer to her. The hems of their coats touched now.

"And why would that be, Agent DiNozzo?" Ziva asked quietly, hoping that he couldn't hear her quickened heartbeat, chiding herself for allowing herself to be so affected by him, and all at once, holding her breath.

Tony leaned down and kissed her there on that old warped brick sidewalk. His hand was just behind her ear, fingers slipped through her hair like they just belonged.

It lasted forever, and not long enough. In reality, it only lasted a few moments, but then, they had never lived in the same reality the rest of the world was familiar with. Theirs was their own, where ten years of waiting and five years of silence didn't matter. The kiss brought both ends of time to one another, a circle within eternity that seemed to finally be connected. Complete.

Tony pulled away finally, but their foreheads remained touching as he held her there in that forlorn street, the leaves whispering like poetry. She hadn't moved since he had taken her in his arms. It was as if she was trying to catch up with had what just happened. What she had waited a decade for.

"Like I said. There's no such thing as coincidences," Tony said quietly, because it was true.

"Like… this was all inevitable?" He nodded, and she lifted herself to kiss him softly. It was much shorter than the last one, but this one was a promise. "Maybe."

* * *

When Ziva awoke the next morning, the sky was still overcast, but it didn't cause her to feel gloomy or lonely, but contemplative instead. It was early in the morning, of course—she didn't need an alarm clock anymore—but she didn't have to go into NCIS until that afternoon to finish paperwork.

She breathed in deeply and stared out her window. Birds flitted from branch to branch on the tree outside her window. Her fluffy comforter was soft, but she pulled the cream afghan covering it closer to her body.

She had awoken wondering who she was.

Was she NCIS Special Agent Ziva David, former Mossad, exotic with a desire for danger and justice?

Was she Miss David, history teacher at Allegro Preparatory with a desire to build children's lives?

Or was she someone else entirely?

For a while, she lay in bed thinking about the five years she spent at NCIS. She thought about the cases, about the fulfillment she experience for the first time when she gave those left behind justice, about their time as a team, working together, spending the majority of their lives together…

For a while, she thought about her students. She thought about how much joy teaching gave her, about the looks on their faces when they realized history's connection to current affairs, about Jane, about how happy it made her. And for a while, she thought about Tony. A soft smile crossed her face as she recalled the night before. She rolled her eyes a little, a rush of butterflies fluttering within, but chuckled quietly as she remembered why.

Ziva sighed as she laid there, her thoughts wandering back to the choice she must make.

Two lives sat before her, available, waiting for her to take them. Choose one, and she would leave the other behind forever. Two lives, two duties, two opportunities. One choice would change her life forever, for the final time.

* * *

Ziva walked into NCIS that afternoon slightly distracted. She had been thinking and thinking all day, and still had not come to a conclusion.

She was early when she arrived—she didn't need to be at her desk for another half hour. Instead, Ziva wandered down to Abby's lab.

"Hey!" Abby greeted her with a casual side hug.

"Morning," Ziva greeted her.

"More like 'Afternoon,' but I'll take what I can get," Abby smiled and returned to her keyboard.

"What are you doing?"

"System update."

"Sounds… exciting."

"It's not," Abby assured her. "How are you? I heard what happened yesterday—you okay?" Abby started looking her over for any possible injuries.

"No, I am fine. We are all fine."

"Good. I mean, I had McGee tell me what he could, and Tony's been in a meeting with Vance and Gibbs all morning, so I haven't gotten all the details."

"We're fine," Ziva said again.

Abby looked at her for a long moment, a nostalgic smile on her lips. "He saved you again."

Ziva smiled and looked away, willing away the inevitable blush on her cheeks. "He's making a habit of it. He is far too capable an agent."

"Yes, he is," Ziva agreed.

Abby paused. "I heard you were offered the spot on Gibbs' team."

"I was," Ziva said.

"But you're not sure?"

Ziva shook her head. "It is complicated."

"I thought you hated that word."

"My life was a lot simpler then, and even then, it _was_ complicated."

"You sound like you need a break," she commented.

"I had one. Five years… It's a long time."

"Too long to come back?"

Ziva sighed. "I do not know. A lot has changed."

"What does Tony think?"

Ziva eyed Abby, but smiled. "He is… supportive. He says as long as I'm happy, he is too." Ziva pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "He's very…"

"Sweet?" Abby finished, a slightly amused smile on her face. The years had softened the former assassin, but words like this were still new to her. Ziva nodded, almost embarrassed. "He's a good guy."

"He is," Ziva agreed and walked around a little, looking at the lab before stopping and turning to her friend. "I want to come back, Abby. I loved it here, and when I left, it was like I lost a part of myself."

"But?"

"But now, I'm building lives. Not taking them. And maybe it's not in the same way, but I feel like I'm making…"

"A difference?" Abby finished.

Ziva nodded. "But I did the same thing here too." She looked around the lab, and despite the newer equipment, she could practically see herself standing with the team as Abby ran around, energetically explaining her findings, or sitting on the floor sorting through endless amounts of documents searching for a fingerprint match that time the power had gone out. If she could just reach out and touch it…

"What do _you_ want?"

Ziva shook her head, completely clueless. "I have no idea. What do you think?"

"I think… Maybe you're the only one who can choose this one. For the first time, Ziva, you get to choose. Not Eli, not Vance, not Gibbs, not even Tony. You've got the wheel here, Ziva."

"The wheel?"

"You may be a dangerous driver," Abby grinned. "But you always got to the right place. Figure you can do it again."

* * *

**Finally, no major cliffhanger, huh? ;) **

**Also, just to explain Ziva's behavior in the first scene, this is how I explained it to livingandthriving: She was supposed to be pretty tentative and nervous and just kind of, "What the heck is going on? Oh my word.. Okay... Wow... Dang..." all while looking at this very attractive man who's telling her he loves her? Yeah. A man like that could make even the most steely of women a little nervous. :P**

**Don't forget to review!**


	28. Of Home

**A/N: Today brings a calmer chapter, but it explains some things, and has a couple of great scenes that I really like.**

**Thank you to everyone for the incredible reviews and alerts and everything—I'm astounded, and I think you're all really amazing. Thank you again.**

**Also, thanks to livingandthriving, who has been so brilliant and encouraging and supportive, and also to everyone at the CBS forums—you guys are **_**fabulous**_**.**

**Autumn**

* * *

_"For we pay a price for everything we get or take in this world; and although ambitions are well worth having, they are not to be cheaply won." -- Lucy Maud Montgomery_

* * *

"Explain it to me, Duck," Gibbs said, walking into autopsy. He sounded a little confused, and were he anyone else, he might have been described as "lost."

"Explain what, exactly?" Ducky leaned against an autopsy table as he spoke with Palmer, who sat at his mentor's chair.

"Abdi. Why. Why'd he do it?"

Ducky sighed and set down his pen, nodding to Palmer to give them some privacy—some things never changed. "When Ziva said he was 'looking for a way out,' she was correct."

"Well yeah, I get the suicide bombing part."

"No, that's not what I mean, Jethro. Ziva described to me the events of the day before she left yesterday, and I read the report this morning. I have been thinking about it, and each time I come back to the ordeal, it sounds more and more like Battered Woman Syndrome."

"This guy was a victim, Duck?"

"In a manner of speaking. He said he was tortured as a child because of racial issues—Iran and Israel have never been known for their particularly blissful relationship, and Abdi felt persecuted, well into his adulthood. He likely relived every day of torment, even in his nightmares, and from Ziva's description, he indeed sounds mentally ill—that could have only worsened his condition."

"Doesn't excuse him from what he did," Gibbs said.

"No, of course not… How is Ziva doing?"

Gibbs shrugged. "She's strong but… takin' the blame on this one."

Ducky sighed. "She has done enough of that already."

"Always has," Gibbs agreed. "Vance offered her the open spot on my team."

"Do you want her back?"

"Of course I want her back, Duck."

"But this is her decision," Ducky finished.

"It's gotta be. That girl's had more decisions made for her than most make in a lifetime."

"Do you think she knows what she'll do?"

Gibbs shook his head. "It's up to her now. I won't be disappointed in her either way."

"Does she know that?" Ducky asked, and Gibbs looked at him. "Have you told her?"

"Not in so many words…"

"Yes, well, you never one for verbal communication… But you should tell her. She trusts you more than anyone."

"You think, Duck?"

"I do."

* * *

Ziva typed away at her old computer, finishing her reports. She exhaled, stretching out her sore arms. She had been working at this for a few hours now, Tony and McGee across from her doing the same. She smiled a little and looked around. NCIS had always been home, always been the place she knew she could come and… and not be afraid.

Tony looked up then, catching her eye. Neither had mentioned the previous night, but they didn't need to. He smiled, seeming to know exactly what she was thinking. Instead of addressing it, he decided to wait for another time, and instead attempted small talk. "You finished?"

Ziva nodded. "About to print it now. You?"

"Yeah, should be done in a couple minutes here. Wanna grab some coffee after?"

She smiled gratefully. "Sure. McGee, would you and Abby like to join us?"

"Sorry guys, we've got plans," he grinned.

"Alright," she consented.

A few minutes later, they left in search of a coffee shop. When they finally settled in at one with a window table, Ziva let her forehead rest against the window as she stared out absentmindedly.

"You okay?" he asked. Ziva nodded, but didn't speak. "Still tryin' figure out what you're gonna do?"

"NCIS was my home," she said simply. "I should come back, I know that. Technically, I am still an agent. It _is_ the right thing to do."

"Ziva," he said, and she looked at him. "If you have to convince yourself that you _should_ come back, maybe it isn't. People evolve, you said so yourself. Maybe you've evolved too." He took a sip of his coffee, and for a moment, he looked exactly like Gibbs.

"I worked so hard to get to NCIS. But when I left, I promised, I swore to myself I would never see you again. And then all of a sudden, there you were, and you were real, and all _this_ was real, and it seemed like every day before for the last five years… wasn't."

"I get it. I had the same thing with my dad after college. When I blew out my knee, basketball wasn't much of an option anymore. Didn't really know what to do. Dad thought I should join the family business, try and help him start it up again. Thought with a trophy like me, we'd make more deals or somethin', I dunno." He shrugged.

"What made you decide to join law enforcement?"

He cocked his head a little. "At the time, it was just a way to make some money. But after a while, seemed like it was more than that. For the first time ever I was doing something with myself, for other people. Felt good, knowing I wasn't entirely useless in the world." He chuckled and pointed at her with the bagel he had bought earlier. "Your problem is that you're _too_ useful to way too many people."

"You're not kidding," she smiled.

Tony put his hand over hers. "Listen, if you decide to come back to NCIS, those kids are gonna find another great teacher. If you don't, crime will still be stopped and the world won't end."

"So I am replaceable?"

He looked at her for a moment, his eyes dancing. "Might be a little easier to find a new drummer for Spinal Tap."

"Hm?"

"You're not replaceable," he grinned at her.

And she smiled right back.

* * *

The rest of the week slipped by peacefully. Technically still an agent, Ziva came in each day to go through cold cases—busy work given by Vance until she made her decision. Most days she went out with the team for drinks, and it went by oh-so-calmly. There had seemed to be a silent agreement between herself and Tony to hold off on anything until she made her final decision—she wasn't sure why, or what the exact purpose was, but it didn't matter. They just smiled a lot—something Abby had commented on happily to McGee.

But inside, Ziva felt conflicted. Torn between two worlds, she wasn't sure which to choose.

In the past, all her choices had either been made for her, or hadn't been difficult to make at all. She chose to come to NCIS after the ordeal with Ari. She chose to leave NCIS after Michael's death. She chose to come back to NCIS for good, leaving Mossad behind.

Those choices were so simple. Though each came with its own aches and pains and difficulties, the choice she faced now burned inside her. It was… _complicated_. Oh, how she hated that word.

The night before her decision was due, Ziva found herself crawling out of bed and into her car. Before she knew it, she stood in front of Gibbs' house. After a while, Gibbs came out.

"You comin' inside? It's cold out here."

Ziva hadn't realized how long she had stood at his gate, or that he had even seen her standing there. She nodded and followed him inside and into the basement.

"Not much has changed," she commented. Ten years after the first day she stepped into the basement of the old house, it seemed as if it had all been left still, waiting for her return.

"Don't need it to."

Ziva walked around aimlessly. She picked up a chisel off of his workspace. "I got you this," she remembered.

"One of my favorites," he commented, sitting on his stool.

She leaned against the workbench, fingering the chisel in her hands. "It was a long time ago," Ziva said wistfully.

Gibbs nodded, turning to pour a cup of bourbon for himself. He offered her some, but she shook her head. She needed to have as clear a mind as she could.

"Do you think we are all meant for something? That perhaps we were made for one thing, and one thing only, where we could do the most good, be the happiest?" she asked quietly, her words echoing a little in the basement.

Gibbs shrugged and took a sip from his old coffee cup—same one he had years ago, Ziva remembered. "I think that when you find you've got somethin', you shouldn't lose it. 'Specially when you're passionate about it."

"But what if I'm passionate about two entirely separate things? What if I can't have both?"

"Ziva, I can't make this decision for you."

She nodded. "I know."

"But what whatever you do pick, I know it's 'cause you're supposed to be doing it." His blue eyes were so sincere. _I'll love you either way_.

Ziva smiled through the sting of tears in her eyes. He set his cup down and drew her into a comforting embrace.

This was home.

* * *

On the night before her decision was due, she lay in bed quietly, remembering every day with the team and every day she spent without them. She thought about her students. She thought about Tony. She thought about everything that had happened.

And as she drifted to sleep, she thought about the pride she felt when she was doing what she was meant for.

* * *

Ziva stood outside Vance's office patiently, her heart settled and her mind calm as she waited.

"Director Vance is ready to see you now, Agent David," Vance's secretary said after speaking with him briefly. Ziva nodded a thanks and walked in.

Vance eyed her, and he knew. "You've made your decision," Vance said. "That wasn't a question."

"Yes, I have."

* * *

**I loved Tony's repetition of the "Spinal Tap" line, if I do say so myself.**

**Don't forget to review!**


	29. Of Love

**A/N: Hey! Sorry for the delay—I just had to get this down right. : ) I think you'll find it was worth it, especially with the extra length.**

**Thank you to everyone at the CBS forums who helped me figure out the examples for the second segment—it was fantastic! And, of course, thank you to the ever-amazing livingandthriving who's been so gracious and brilliant. She gets the credit for last line of the second segment. Thank you!**

**And also, thank you to everyone who's reviewed. I'm blown away. Over 800 reviews for only 28 chapters. Seriously, guys, I am floored and humbled and honored. Thank you.**

**Enjoy!**

**Autumn**

**

* * *

**

_"Birds sing after a storm. Why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them?" --Rose Kennedy_

* * *

Ch 29

"You've decided to come back to NCIS," Vance said, repeated **(repeating)** her words from a moment ago.

"Yes, sir," Ziva answered quietly. "I have realized that… there is no such thing as coincidences."

"Gibbs," Vance said simply. 

Ziva smiled and nodded. "My father raised me to kill, and… That was all I knew before I came to NCIS. But when I did come, when I saw everything here, I realized that I'm not a mere killer. I suppose you could say I was meant for something else."

"Investigating?"

She nodded again. "For doing the right thing. And I think," she said slowly, "After all the times I have tried to leave and have somehow found my way back," she paused. "Perhaps I am supposed to be here, doing this."

"You're sure about this, Agent David?" he asked, brows raised.

Ziva smiled a little, more to herself than to him before looking at him confidently. "If there is one thing Gibbs taught me, it is to follow my gut."

Vance smiled, almost proudly, and nodded. "It's good to have you back, Agent David." He offered her hand and she shook it gratefully.

Ziva thanked him and left his office, walking down the hallway through to the balcony that overlooked the squadroom. She looked below to see Abby, McGee, Palmer, Ducky, Gibbs, and Tony all waiting, looking up for her expectantly. She looked down at them and smiled, and they just knew.

Abby squealed a little—more quietly than she would have years ago—and hugged McGee in celebration. Ziva made eye contact with Gibbs as she walked down the stairs to meet them. He nodded with a small smile on his face, proud.

And then there was Tony. He just looked at her, a soft smile on her face as she finally turned to reach them in the bullpen. Abby walked over to her and hugged her before Gibbs offered his hand.

"Agent David."

She shook it. "Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs glanced at Tony and smirked a little. He nodded, and Tony took a step forward and embraced the newest and final agent on the MCRT.

It was a short embrace, but neither noticed the happy glances exchanged between the rest of the team as he kissed her briefly. When they pulled apart after a few moments, he kept his arm around her.

"I think it's time to start planning that reunion dinner," Abby announced confidently.

Ziva smiled. "There's just one more thing I have to do."

* * *

That Wednesday, Ziva woke up early and went for her daily run. She came home and showered, then put on her work clothes. She gathered up her things and drove to Allegro Preparatory.

After speaking with the headmaster, she discovered that classes would open again that week, and Career Day would go as scheduled for students who felt prepared enough to return to school.

Ziva drove the familiar route for the last time, parking the car in her old spot. As she got out, she saw Tony from afar, and exchanged a look with him. He was proud of her. She could tell. They met near the entrance, having parked on separate sides. He simply smiled at her and squeezed her hand as they walked in.

"Nervous?"

Ziva pursed her lips for a moment before they reached security where she would swipe her ID card for the last time today. "No," she replied, surprised at herself.

Thirty minutes later, it was their turn to speak. The school had decided to hold it in the auditorium, where a number of speakers from various fields would discuss their careers, and afterward would hand out brochures and fliers at information tables to interested students.

"Our next speakers are Special Agents from the Naval Criminal Investigative Service," the headmaster said from the front podium, introducing them. "These are also the agents responsible for saving our school and all of our lives last week, so I would like to thank them for that. You may recognize Agent David as a history teacher here at Allegro. I won't tell her story, but I'd advise you all to listen to what she and her partner have to say. There's a lot we can learn from them," he said, looking out to his young audience before nodding to the pair who stood near the wall.

Tony and Ziva walked up to the front of the room, and Ziva looked out over the audience. She was able to pick out many of her students who sat, waiting for her to begin.

"Good morning," she began, suddenly a little unsure. Many of the students were whispering to one another, surprised to see their teacher at the podium. "I am Special Agent Ziva David, and this is my partner, Agent DiNozzo, but I think most of you know me as Miss David, the history teacher," she took a deep breath and continued, Tony taking a step forward, closer to her. "Most of you are probably wondering why that is. Before I was a teacher here, I was an agent with NCIS, but I was raised to be an Israeli Mossad Officer," she said, and students began whispering excitedly.

"I was Israeli Mossad for many years, and as exciting as it was, it never felt like home, it was never fulfilling. I wanted to serve my country, but I never felt like I was able to do that with Mossad. It did not feel right, but I knew nothing else. Then, one day," Ziva said, glancing at Tony. "I came to NCIS. And what I saw there was different from everything else I had seen before. Tony was the first person I met there, and I was amazed by the loyalty he had to his team, by how much they trusted one another. It was foreign to me, and I wanted it. Fortunately, I was given the opportunity to join the team as the Mossad Liaison Officer, and everything changed.

"I was not raised to be an investigator, and at times, it was difficult. But there was something so incredible about the work. At NCIS, we are tasked with pursuing crimes related to the Navy and Marine Corps and their families. In a way, we are able to protect the men and women who give their lives for this country every day. We put away the worst of criminals. We give justice," she said, quiet pride exuding from her so much that she seemed to glow. Maybe it was the lights. But Tony didn't think so. She took a deep breath, absentmindedly fingering the edge of the wooden podium. "Teaching at Allegro was an assignment. I was instructed to protect you all, and as you're all aware, it came to a head last week. It wasn't supposed to happen like it did, and I am sorry that it put you in danger. I did not intend to let it happen, and I am sincerely sorry that it did." Ziva exhaled. "Last week, I was given the choice between teaching here or continuing my career as a federal agent. It was one of the most difficult decisions I had ever made, but ultimately, I decided to go back to NCIS. While I love teaching, and while this semester has been one of the most rewarding times of my life, NCIS is my home. I have never felt like I could do so much good… It is a part of who I am," she said simply.

Ziva nodded to Tony; it was his turn to speak.

Tony took the microphone that stood beside the podium—an extra had been set out for him—and grinned charmingly. Ziva looked to the audience of students and noticed many of the females were whispering to one another. She shook her head with a small smile as he began to speak. "To be honest, I never expected to become a cop. I mean, really, that was _not_ me. I majored in phys ed and was on my way to a career in basketball. I mean, _man_, I was good. But then I blew out my knee and it wasn't really an option anymore. I ended up at a couple different local police departments, but landed at NCIS for good a while back. I was kinda an idiot before," he grinned. "But what was weird was that I actually loved what I was doing—helping people. Now ah, do you guys have any questions?"

One student raised his hand. "What's the weirdest case you've ever worked on?"

Tony and Ziva exchanged a glance. "There's been a few. I think one of the weirdest cases was probably our grossest. This mausoleum exploded and there was like, this really disgusting human goo everywhere. It was pretty awful, and it turned out the bodies just, well, exploded."

Ziva slapped Tony's arm—this was no story for students—but she grinned at him and moved into the microphone. "Any other questions?"

Another student was called on and stood. "What's been the hardest thing for you about this job?"

Ziva paused and thought a moment. "It is a dangerous job, and it comes with many risks, and many sacrifices. But sometimes, it hits too close to home. We expect it, but we are always surprised."

Tony nodded knowingly as she spoke. There was the time Gibbs was nearly blown up and went into a coma, losing all memory of the past fifteen years. When Jenny died. When Chris Pacci was murdered. When Paula's team died, and she followed willingly. But the hardest was when he learned there were no survivors on the _Damocles_—that Ziva had died. "A person only has so many 'almosts'," he added. "Before they run out. There've been days where I'm surprised it wasn't my turn. But ah, I don't believe in coincidences," Tony said, glancing at Ziva for a moment. "And I've always thought that maybe there's a reason for that."

"How'd you get in to NCIS?" another student asked.

Tony grinned charmingly. "I smiled?"

* * *

That night, the couple returned to Ziva's house for an early dinner. The remainder of Career Day had gone surprisingly well. With no pointed questions about her number of kills, childhood, or any other shady parts of her life—due to the brush with danger the school had the week before, she guessed—the day had continued profitably.

"What'd you think?" Tony asked her as she opened the door to her apartment.

She moved inside and shut the door behind him, pulling off her scarf, coat, and gloves—the weather was growing frostier each day. "It went… It was kind of amazing," she confessed.

He grinned. "Told you it'd be fine."

"I wasn't nervous," she retorted.

"You were getting there."

"Well, I think I had a right to be," she replied over her shoulder as she turned on the kitchen light.

"That, you do," Tony agreed. "Need any help?"

Ziva shook her head. "I'm just going to heat up the lasagna. Should only take a few minutes—I defrosted it this morning. You can go leave your coat by the door and pick out a movie if you like."

He did so and began to search for a movie. Her collection had grown in the five years she had been gone, and now included most of his recommendations, classics, and favorites, noticing many titles he had referenced over the years. He grinned when her window seat caught his eye. It was surrounded with books.

"Quite a collection of books you've got there," he said.

"I have always liked to read," she said.

"I remember," he said, sitting down and flipping through some of them. There were books in every language—Hebrew, English, French—he even spotted one in Arabic. "Wow, you keepin' up with your languages?"

She laughed. "Yes. I have not had so many opportunities to use them all, so I find reading is a good refresher."

Tony set the novel he had in his hand down and picked up a leather volume, thick, heavy with hundreds of pages within. He grinned and opened it, and was speechless when he began to read.

_Dear Tony,_

_Today I took a walk on Beacon Hill. Some of these homes remind me of DC, of when we would walk on the sidewalks, warped with age. You would always have your coffee, and I would always have my tea._

_I thought about calling you today, just to see how you're doing. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. You have probably picked up and moved on with your life. You don't need me intruding again, not after three years._

_I just want you to know that it was not your fault._

_You should know that._

_Ziva_

He flipped to another page hurriedly, going forward in the book.

_Dear Tony,_

_I moved back to DC today. It's so strange to be here again, in all the places we used to go and see. Last week I took a shortcut through the street we once had a stakeout on, watching a storage building for days on end. Do you remember? You and McGee nearly killed one another, and I must admit, it was highly amusing._

_I miss those days. McGee, Gibbs, Abby, you and me…_

_You and me._

_There never was a "you and me". I shouldn't be so silly as to say that._

_Ha, listen to me. I am ridiculous._

_I walk the street and find myself craning my neck to see if you're around, to see if you're here. You never are though, and then I feel silly._

_I have become so soft._

_Ziva_

Tony swallowed and began to flip faster, scanning the pages, lines jumping at him, attacking him.

_… I cannot tell you how much my heart hurts. They were so glad to see me, so welcoming and forgiving. They want me to come see you, but I cannot. I can't do that to you (Do you see? I am I'm using contractions. I know you always wanted me to.) You don't deserve that…Sometimes I wonder, 'What would have happened if we only had a little more time?' I wondered that the summer Vance sent me back. I wondered that in Somalia. I wondered that when I saw you sitting there. I wondered that when I left again…This morning I woke up your arms. Innocently but sweetly, I fell asleep there, and I think I may have liked it too much._

Tony shut the book quickly, confused and amazed.

Ziva walked in. "You ready for… Oh," she said, seeing the journal in his hands.

"I'm sorry, I thought it was…"

Ziva looked at it for a moment. "It's okay."

"This was private…"

"No, Tony, it wasn't. I wrote it… For you. They were letters," she explained.

"Letters?"

"I started writing them the night I left. Wrote almost every day for a year, and I always intended to send them, but after a while… I couldn't."

Tony set it down and stood. "You wrote all of that… to me?"

Ziva nodded, looking him up and down calmly. "I promised myself I'd never see you again. This… this let me."

"Why not?"

"You deserved better than anything I could give you," she said simply.

"I never wanted anything better," Tony replied, shaking his head. "Thought I had it all anyway." Ziva blushed and looked away. "You're blushing!"

"I am not," she retorted.

"Oh yes you are."

Ziva looked at him for a moment and sighed. "Apparently whenever you call, I always blush. You should've seen my students—they're like younger versions of Gibbs when it comes to interrogation."

"Ha, oh really? _You_ blush when _I_ call? Now why would that be?" he teased.

Ziva shook her head, but laughed. "Because I love you, you idiot." Tony just looked at her for a moment as she realized what she had just said. Her grin softened into a smile as she looked at him. He moved a few feet towards her slowly and before he could open his mouth to speak, her lips met his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him for a long, sweet moment.

She finally pulled away, but left her arms around his neck, fingering the hair there a little. His arms had come around to her waist as they stood there, and he looked down at her now, a smile on his face. "Well, then."

Ziva looked up at him and laughed a little, emotions rushing through her all at once, and in a rare occurrence, all of them were good. "So. Orange juice?"

Tony grinned and played with the cuff of her sweater. "Well, remember when we were grocery shopping the other day?"

She eyed him. "Yes…"

"You picked out my orange juice. You knew I needed more, and I dunno, it just felt… right. It was when I knew."

"Knew?"

Tony paused to kiss her again, and she rolled her eyes, but smiled. "I dunno, it was just when I knew that I didn't want anyone else picking out my orange juice. I wanted _you_ to be the one doing that, every day, for the rest of whatever kinda life we've got."

"_That_ is a lot of orange juice," she replied.

"I hope so," Tony said. He exhaled and looked at her tenderly. "That was when I knew I loved you. I mean, I always did, since you walked into the bullpen ten years ago. But things were different then, everything was different," he touched her cheek.

"And then you were gone, and it felt like I was too. And when you came back, it was like someone finally turned that light on, and," he laughed softly. "I just knew," he said again. "I love you," Tony said. And oh, how he meant it.

Ziva smiled and leaned up to kiss him once more when the oven sounded with a shrill _beep_, their dinner now ready.

* * *

**Don't forget to review!**


	30. Of Family

**A/N: Hey everyone. Sorry for the huge delay—totally on me, and it sucks even more because this is the second to last chapter. However, it's been fabulous writing for you all, and I'll give out my gushy thank-you's in the final chapter.**

**Today is the long-awaited reunion dinner, and there's not a lot more to say about that. I like the chapter a lot, and though it took quite a bit of tweaking, I think livingandthriving and I reached a good place for it. So big thanks to her and her amazingness. And also, thank you to phoenix008 for the line, "I have always felt that disaster either brings people together or moves them so far apart things can't go back to normal." It was perfect for the story!**

**Enjoy, and start thinking about your favorite parts, lines, and moments of the story to share in the next chapter's review. ; )**

* * *

_"Where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts." -- Oliver Wendell Holmes_

* * *

One week later, Ziva sat on her couch, reading as she waited. It was Friday, the night of Abby's "reunion dinner," which would be held at Ducky's place, as no one else had the room. Tony would be here to pick her up any minute, and she was filling her time with a book she had picked up a few days ago.

A knock sounded at the door, and she stood. Ziva opened it and saw the man she was waiting for behind it.

"Milady," Tony bowed exaggeratedly, and handed her a small bouquet of flowers.

"Tony," she said, looking at them.

"Hey, we haven't had any time for me to take you somewhere nice, so I figured these flowers would help pass the time."

"Don't make me sound desperate," she grinned, taking them and moving aside for him to step in.

"What, you're not hanging on my every word? Wow, I feel stupid," he teased, and she kissed him lightly.

"They are beautiful, Tony, thank you," she said before flitting to the kitchen for a vase. She glanced at him as he followed her. "You clean up nice."

"It's been a while since you saw me like this, huh?" Tony asked, leaning on the counter as she filled the vase with water.

Ziva nodded. "Paris, I think?"

Tony smiled and moved over to her putting his arms around her waist and kissed the top of her head. "Mmm, Paris."

"Have you had a drink?" she eyed him. "You're acting awfully…"

"Romantic?"

Ziva nodded. "Yes, romantic."

Tony pulled away as she began to walk toward the entryway where her coat and bag waited, her task now complete. "Well, it's been a while since I had the opportunity, and I figure now that I've got you, there's no way I'm lettin' you get away again," he explained simply.

Ziva smiled at him. _Flutter-flutter-flutter_. She placed a hand on his arm—she didn't need to say anything—and they left for Ducky's place.

* * *

"Hey!" Abby greeted them at the door, opening it for the couple. Ziva held a bottle of wine and Tony a long loaf of freshly baked bread from the team's favorite bakery. They were welcomed into the warmth of Ducky's home and Abby took their offerings to the kitchen, chattering about how good dinner would be and so on and so forth.

Tony and Ziva walked into the living room where they were greeted by the rest of the team. Even Palmer had come, and the large gathering seemed to not make Ziva anxious, but relaxed. Tony smiled to himself as he watched her explain some of her classes from college to Ducky.

After a few minutes of chatting, Abby came to usher in the group to the dining room where their "feast," as she called it, awaited.

"Abby, this is amazing," Tony said, pointing to the ham on his plate.

"Think of it as a trial run for Christmas," she said proudly.

"Feel free to do trial runs any time, Abby," Palmer said, taking another bite.

Abby stood and raised her glass of wine. "I'd like to make a toast: to being together again. I wanted to say something more than that, but I dunno—it's what I'm just really, really thankful for," she rambled for a moment.

The team raised their respective glasses and clinked them together. Tony looked over at Ziva who sat beside him and smiled. He took the opportunity to steal a kiss from her, and she rolled her eyes but smiled contentedly.

"So, Ziva," McGee grinned and turned to her. "How'd you like American college?"

"It was… different than I expected," she said. "However, it seemed to be filled with fraternities—I could have sworn they knew Tony."

"Hey, I grew up," Tony laughed.

"Only took you thirty-five years, DiNozzo," Gibbs commented with a small smile and he leaned back into his chair.

"What was your favorite class?" McGee asked, returning to the original topic.

"Astronomy," she replied, glancing at Tony. "I needed an extra credit, so I took the class. Most students took it because it was easy, but I thought it was beautiful."

"Time has softened you," Abby smiled and took a sip of her glass. "Or maybe it was just your shell."

"Perhaps," Ziva said wistfully before sitting up to speak again. "It was strange, being older than most students."

"I'm sure you didn't look it," Tony replied.

"Hm," Ziva smiled before turning to Palmer. "Tell me about your new career as a medical examiner."

Palmer chuckled. "Sometimes I think Dr. Mallard did a better job."

"He's being modest," Abby told her. "The kid's pretty talented, even if he did blow his first day on the job."

Ziva looked at him, her lips curling into a curious smile. "What happened?"

He laughed nervously. "I kinda left a scalpel in there."

"In…" Ziva gave him a look.

"In the chest cavity. I was kinda, uh, nervous. I only found it after I did a CAT scan at Dr. Mallard's suggestion."

"And he was an hour late to the crime scene," Tony added.

"My GPS broke," Palmer defended.

"The crime scene was at Rock Creek Park, Jimmy," McGee reminded him. "We go there at _least _once a month."

"Ziva, did they tell you about the body we found there a couple years back?" Palmer tried changing the subject. "It was green. Like, really green."

"Green?"

Tony nodded. "Looked like a pickle."

Ziva narrowed her eyes at him and listened to the team's explanation, laughing comfortably as if Ziva had merely gone on vacation rather than having disappeared.

* * *

After settling the group on the couch for coffee and desert, Ducky sighed and looked at the young couple wistfully before turning to Gibbs who sat on the armchair beside him. "I have always felt that disaster either brings people together or moves them so far apart things can't go back to normal."

"They got it right," Gibbs nodded, glancing at the pair who were discussing a recent movie they had seen, not paying attention to the others. Ziva sat on the couch comfortably, legs crossed with her coffee held in her hands, resting on her knees, but her eyes were adoring as she looked at Tony, laughing at something she had said.

"Rule Twelve is no longer a concern, I see," Ducky observed.

"Eh, hasn't been for a while," Gibbs confirmed, motioning to McGee and Abby.

"Ah, yes, of course. But Abby is not in the field with McGee."

Gibbs shrugged a little and sipped his coffee. "I trust 'em. Ten years is long enough."

Ducky smiled proudly. "Good."

"Ducky, did I tell you about my Scottish professor?" Ziva asked, turning to the doctor.

"I don't believe so."

Ziva chuckled as she remembered. "Perhaps it is a cultural thing, but he seemed to have endless stories. He reminded me so much of you—I almost asked if he knew you, but I didn't think that would be the case. He always wore a bow tie too," she said. "Made me feel a little more at home."

"He sounds like a lovely man. I should like to meet him one day."

Ziva smiled. "I am sure he would feel the same way. However, we did not have tea, like I always did with you. _That_ I missed."

"And we missed you," he replied.

* * *

A little while later, Ziva found herself refilling the coffee pot in the kitchen. Ducky was regaling the team with the tale of a humorous adventure from a time when he, Gibbs, and Jenny worked together years ago.

Footsteps sounded on the tile floor; footsteps she recognized. "You have never been good at sneaking up on me," she smiled.

"Nah, that was always your talent. Never could pick it up from you," Tony admitted and walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her, taking in her scent, her touch.

Ziva leaned into him for a moment before turning slightly to eye him. "What's with you tonight?"

Tony allowed her to face him and he took her hands. "Just making the most of this. Of us."

"I'm not going anywhere," she assured him.

He smiled. "I know." He touched her cheek a little, checking to see if it was all real. "You were gone for so long that, I dunno, sometimes I'm just amazed you're alive."

Ziva chuckled. "I have excellent survival skills."

"Apparently," he agreed. Tony sighed and looked at her.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked suspiciously.

Tony looked down for a second, then back up at her. "Just glad you're here. Still, I mean."

"I am not going anywhere," she repeated, brows raised for emphasis.

Tony took the pitcher of coffee from behind her and smiled. "I know."

"Good."

"And you know," he continued. "It all started with coffee."

"Actually, it started with phone sex."

They laughed for a moment before Abby joined them with coffee orders from the rest of the group, glad that she hadn't caught the end of their conversation. They exchanged a grateful look before turning to Abby.

"Palmer's driving Gibbs crazy. Better get him another cup ASAP," Abby said, shaking her head.

"Still drinks a little too much now and then," Tony told Ziva. "But not as bad as the Great Christmas Fiasco of 2010."

"Oh?" Ziva's eyebrows rose in amusement.

"You know he's got a girlfriend now?" Abby said. "Her name's Penelope—sweet girl, got red hair like Gibbs' wives. Ask him about her—he'll turn as red as Ducky's famous cranberry sauce."

"Speaking of Gibbs' wives," Ziva grinned. "Has he come close to adding any others to the, ah, list?"

Abby shook her head with a smile. "Nope. Never could replace Shannon, and I think after Jenny, he kinda just accepted that. Musta always known it, but…" Abby shrugged and took the prepared coffee cups which Ziva had just finished from Tony's hands. "He's okay with it though. Still got a goddaughter to dote on."

"How is she?" Ziva asked, remembering the last time she had seen the young girl—only a baby then.

"Gotta be twelve or thirteen now. Ask Gibbs about her too," Abby said with a wink before walking out of the kitchen.

Ziva turned to Tony. "Gibbs? Doting?"

"Hey, time does crazy stuff to people," he replied and handed her the remaining mugs.

"This is true," she said and followed him to the living room.

"So, no Twister tonight?" Tony grinned.

* * *

The drive back to Ziva's place was a quiet calm. Ziva hadn't even tried fighting for the keys—she was too happy, too content to notice that she simply got in the car and rested her head against the window.

Tony glanced at her, a smile on her face. "You happy?"

She looked at him and nodded. "I am."

"Feels like it did a while back. Feels right," he agreed.

"We are all where we are supposed to be again," Ziva added.

Tony looked at her and smile for a moment before redirecting his eyes to the road. _Yeah, you are._

When they arrived at her apartment, Ziva retreated to her room to find some more comfortable clothing for their movie. They had the weekend off, probably the last for a while, and the couple was determined to make the most of it.

While Tony put in the movie he had brought, Ziva sifted through her room. She laughed wryly as she found that though her drawers were once filled to the brim with jeans and cargo pants, they were now barren of such items, her closet filled with dress pants, skirts, and more work-appropriate attire. Oh, how things had changed.

She finally came out dressed in a pair of jeans she had managed to find, Tony waiting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, remote control aimed appropriately.

"What are we watching?"

Tony grinned. "Bad Day at Black Rock."

"I have never seen it," she said as she got comfortable beside him.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Tony replied, thinking of their time in Somalia.

"Hm?"

"Never mind. You ready?"

Tony pressed "play" and their movie came on screen. They watched it quietly, Tony making a comment now and then, and when Ziva looked up at him, she could swear he was mouthing the lines with the characters onscreen. She rolled her eyes with a smile and settled back into his side.

They fell asleep on the couch that night, Ziva curled under Tony's arm, his other behind the back of his head. When they awoke, they smiled and continued to lay there, content. Sometime after the sun had risen and he was sure she was awake, Tony spoke softly. "What'd you mean you 'may have liked it too much'?"

"Hm?" she asked quietly, eyes still closed.

"In the letter."

"Oh… I did not want to count my chickens before they crack. I thought it might be too good to be true."

He grinned sleepily at her mistake, and at her reason. He fingered her curls absentmindedly while they lay there, neither having any real desire to move. "Okay."

"But I am glad it wasn't," Ziva said after a couple minutes.

"Wasn't what?"

"Too good to be true."

He smiled and took her curl in his fingers, tickling her face with it like a feather before she slapped him playfully. "Me too."

* * *

**Don't forget to review!**


	31. Of Grace

**A/N: Hey guys, and welcome to the final chapter of **_**And Then, It's Called Grace.**_

**First, I'd like to thank my incredible editor, livingandthriving! She's been so patient and brilliant, and even though she was only involved with the last half of the story, she's been catching my typos and mistakes form early on, which I am so grateful for!**

**Thank you to dizzy – in – the – izzy for helping me figure out the length and such of this story. Without you, it probably would have dragged on miserably.**

**Thanks also to all of my amazing friends at the CBS forums who have been cheering me on from the beginning. Whenever I felt like it wasn't going right or when I wasn't sure where go with this, you guys stuck it through and really encouraged me. Thank you so much!**

**And of course, thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed, favorite, or put me or this story on alert. I've never received such an amazing response before and it's been a completely amazing experience.**

**See the bottom of the page for the rest of my a/n.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"_Grace comes into the soul, as the morning sun into the world; first a dawning, then a light; and at last the sun in his full and excellent brightness." --Thomas Adams_

* * *

Monday morning, the team walked into the squadroom as usual. It was still early and the Naval Yard was a little more quiet than usual. Ziva had arrived at her desk at six o'clock sharp; it finally organized to her liking. She found a framed photo of the team sitting on her desk when she arrived, a little note from Abby waiting with it.

McGee was next to arrive. "Morning," he said.

"Morning." She smiled happily.

"You excited to be back?"

"I was back last week, McGee."

He nodded as he sat down. "I know. But my gut's telling me we'll land a case today."

"In that case…" She thought for a moment, though she didn't need to. "Yes."

McGee smiled at her, so relaxed and in place. "Tony in yet?"

She shook her head. "Probably getting coffee."

"Got it," Tony said, walking out of the elevator. He handed Ziva her tea, McGee his cappuccino, set Gibbs' strong black coffee on his desk, and pulled out his own special DiNozzo blend before sitting down.

A few minutes later as the team spoke about nothing in particular, Ziva felt a paper ball hit her head. She looked up at Tony and glared. He was grinning charmingly, leaning back in his chair. It was a familiar sight. "Some things never change," Ziva commented.

Tony chuckled and proceeded to check his email. He stared at the screen intently, telling Ziva something when he glanced back at her desk, now empty. "You're behind me aren't you?"

"Hm," Ziva smiled. She stood behind the divider, looking over at him.

He turned to see her. "What are you doing?"

"Observing," she said, walking back around to him, steps slick and elegant.

"You did that on your first case here, the one with the Civil War guy."

"I remember," she said.

"You're right," he smiled up at her. "Some things never change." Tony reached for a stack of papers from his printer and looked around. "Probie! Where's my Mighty Mouse stapler?" His tone was much kinder than it was thirteen years ago when the younger man joined the team, but it still carried they very _Tony_ attitude that they all knew so well.

"Don't look at me," McGee defended.

"Palmer," he realized and began walking toward the elevator when he heard Ziva's voice.

"Tony." He took several steps backwards so he was facing her on the other side of her divider. She held up her hand, revealing the stapler. "Mine was broken," she explained.

He chuckled at took it from her hand, shaking his head. "How long were you gonna make me suffer?"

"It was a stapler, Tony."

"My favorite one," he said, twisting it in his fingers.

"Even after all these years?"

"You've had it for, like, fifteen years. You could probably sell it online," McGee commented. "It's about time."

"Stay out of this, Probie," Tony shot back.

"Aren't you a little old for a Mighty Mouse stapler, Tony?" McGee asked.

"Hey, I'm all for growing up, but some things just gotta stay," he replied, and his eyes flicked to Ziva. She smiled up at him.

"Not you, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, walking in quickly, coffee in hand. "Got a dead petty officer in Rock Creek Park."

Tony grinned and they all reached for their things, holstering SIGs, slipping ID's into pockets, slinging backpacks over shoulders. "On your six, Boss," Tony said. They met in the elevator quickly, Gibbs taking a swig of his coffee and McGee conferring with local LEOs on his phone. Tony and Ziva exchanged a smile as the doors closed. "On your six."

* * *

_Dear Tony,_

_Today we solved a case that seems familiar to us—ten years of capturing the killers of dead petty officers in Rock Creek Park have passed us by, and though it's not the thrilling action of Mossad or the noble work of teaching, it's what I love. I cannot explain it anymore than that. Some things just _are_._

_I do not know where I will be in ten years. I hope that, wherever I am, you'll be there too, quoting movies and being annoying and making waffles. I'll pick out your orange juice and we will play hooky and have James Bond marathons. For all the times you drive me crazy, I still find you to be the most inspiring person I know. You show me how to laugh at myself, and I have always thought that it was your influence that helped me to be a good teacher._

_I do not see the next ten years being easy—the first ten weren't. They were hard, and there were times I was not sure I would be able to go on. But you were there, quoting movies and doing your Jack and being steady, as crazy as you were. _

_I'll see you tonight. We're finally going on a real date—dinner and a movie, you said. The dinner will probably be awful and the movie will probably be ridiculous, but we survived ten years of terrorists, bombs, bullets, and Gibbs._

_Compared to that, this is nothing, and this is… everything._

_I'll pick out your orange juice for as long as you'll let me._

_Love, _

_Ziva_

Ziva had changed his world. From her first entrance in the squadroom ten years ago to her laughter in the elevator that day, Ziva had done incredible things for him. She challenged him and tried him, helped him to grow and change and become the man she always saw inside of him. A decade had passed, a web woven of the finest and strongest spider's silk. Their story was about second chances, memories, and falling in love again. It, as many of the great stories, legends, and tales of heroes in this world are, was about sacrifice, whether it was deserved or not. And when it was not, it was called "grace".

* * *

**Wow, can you believe it's already over?**

**I know this chapter was pretty mundane, pretty normal and calm. I really wanted to feel like it did ten years ago for them, like everything was normal, from paper balls being tossed to dead petty officer in Rock Creek Park—classic things like this have made the show what it is, and if I can just grab a fraction of that feeling, then I know I'm doing something right.**

**I added the last letter at the very last moment. Everyone was looking for more letters, and I thought that it'd be a great way to end the story. I added that last little bit there just before even saving this document to send to FFN, so it hasn't been beta'd by livingandthriving. But I felt it was a necessary part to add, and I hope she's ok with it. : )**

**For those who watch Criminal Minds—or don't—the majority of the quotes for Grace were all featured there. Others were just found on the Internet, here and there**

**I don't plan on a sequel—I'm like Tony in that I really do not like sequels. It wouldn't be right for Grace—their story has been told, and that's what matters. I do plan, however, on another feature-length story (lol). I'm working on one right now, and we'll see how it goes. It's an unusual one, and yet, not so much, so we'll just have to see.**

**It's been an amazing experience writing for you guys. I hope to see you all again very soon.**

**Don't forget to review! If you haven't reviewed this story, delurk and let me know what you thought. Share your favorite moments, lines, chapters, scenes—whatever it was that caught your eye. Let me know what you might like to see in a future story—themes, ideas, plots, whatever. I'm so open to anything.**

**Thank you!**

**Autumn Gray**


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